


Red Sands

by Vixen_Tail



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: A not-Scarlet Scarlet, Explicit Language, Friend in Need Focused, Gen, Male Character replacing a Female Character, Mental Health Issues, No game mechanics, Not Romanic, Reincarnated Scarlet, Reincarnated/Future Knowledge, Set During the Wutai War, Shin-Ra Company centric events, Teenager SOLDIER Firsts, Warning: Hojo (Compilation of FFVII), Will Remain Gen, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 116,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen_Tail/pseuds/Vixen_Tail
Summary: Reeve Tuesti was quite literally the only decent man in FFVII's Shin-Ra Electric Company. Let's add another.
Comments: 218
Kudos: 511
Collections: Suggested Good Reads





	1. Chapter 1

It was a fluke, at first.

Happenstance.

That he was for _once_ not mostly brain-dead and exhausted, to the point his team liked to call ‘zombi-fied’, to notice something going on in the background of his morning trudge to his Department’s main workshop.

It might’ve had something to do with whomever added the bitter edge to his coffee that came from the company coffee pot grounds on floor 64, or really just a rare side-benefit of _just_ enough sleep for once without the cloying nightmares to ruin any good his rest might’ve done.

Between the clients and customers hurrying to and fro, the security guards dotted about, his co-workers from other divisions of Shin-Ra Incorporated ferrying information and requests here to there, grunt infantrymen going to and from the weapons lockers to field test the ‘bounty’ of military technology his department produced either under the plate or out in the field, standing _just_ far enough outside any secretary’s small spheres of obsessive control… there was another redhead apparently _half his damn age_ arguing with someone wearing a lab coat far enough into a side hallway to be out of the way of traffic but still in plain view anyways. 

…the stairs were that way, weren’t they?

The ‘fire escape’, for a building over seventy floors tall. That would _never_ be able to take every person that worked in the towering Shin-Ra building at the same time without crushing something. Either from the landings or stairs collapsing or the panic as people stampeded over one another.

The guy in the lab coat was one of the assholes from Research and Development, no doubt. Those that answered to the Science Department _all_ wore those damn coats like a badge of honor, slithering around the corners and acting like they owned the whole damn building when pried out of their personal labs.

He didn’t like them, honestly. Creepy gits, every last one. Didn’t help he knew _perfectly well_ what horrors they got up to, no matter the Turk-run propaganda that tried to smear a rosy-tint all over their human-experimentation bullshit.

A moment standing still to observe was all it took for his still form to gain its own share of impatient looks, which he knew in the vague way of social etiquette in a busy headquarters of a nearly globally-spanning company like the Shin-Ra Electric Company was a faux pas. One he could _ignore_ , because it wasn’t like he cared or had the reputation of being a helpful person. On this floor, no one would _dare_ try to bitch him out.

“… _not_ optional, Rhapsodos. I don’t _care_ what little rebellion-“ Cutting himself off when the man who would fully admit to being an interloper noisily sipped his paint-thinner strong coffee behind him, one _Doctor Hollander_ from the look of his ID badge whirled around to give him a completely _infuriated_ glare. “I _also_ don’t care who the _hell_ you think you are, _sir_ , but _private conversations_ that don’t include you-“

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have your conversations in the hallway if you don’t want to be interrupted.” He drawled over his regretfully cooling mug of coffee, sarcastically enough it got the redheaded teen to huff almost silently in sardonic amusement behind the salt-and-pepper haired man. “May I then _inquire_ just _why_ a SOLDIER ‘First-Class’ and a flunky from the Science Departments are doing _arguing_ on my damn floor?”

“ _I_ ,” sniffed the said young SOLDIER with wounded innocence, a totally unnecessary flourish of his right hand laying thin fingers that didn’t look like they could possibly crush a skull without aid on the black leather chest plate worn under the bright-ass red trench coat, “was _invited_. Weapons Development requested SOLDIER test pilots, and I _aim_ to _serve_ … if certain someone would oh so _kindly_ take himself and his _concerns_ elsewhere.”

“About fucking _time_.” He, rather sourly admittedly, sighed out. “We’re about six _months_ behind, Rhapsodos. Everything that was designed for a SOLDIER’s hands is in the green lab, clipboards on the north wall hold both the paperwork and instructions as well as any keys required. Do your best to destroy it in any way possible and record down, either by video or by hand, how you did it… if you could.”

Appearing _highly_ amused, likely also grateful for him playing along with his little lie since he had _not_ yet requested SOLDIERs to help him test anything out since nothing was _near_ the point it could be tested by those outside their department, one teenaged Genesis Rhapsodos threw him a cheerful salute and turned on a booted heel.

There was a mutter about something of vengeance and torment, which kind of sounded like a quote of some poetry or something, but he really wasn’t paying the other redhead much attention anymore.

“You, _get the fuck off my floor._ ”

Spluttering, the guy in… were those _sandals?_

The old dude with a ragged if short scraggly beard to match his already greying hair, some orange shirt with the logo of some juice brand on his chest under that starch-white lab coat, and _khakis_ to finish off his utterly _unprofessional_ appearance tried to draw himself up in some kind of fit. “Do you _know_ who I am? I am Doctor-“

“I don’t give a shit. If you _haven’t_ noticed, this is floor forty-five. Weapons Development. I’m pretty damn certain you weren’t invited here, as I’d sure as fuck would’ve known.” Giving those brown leather sandals another sardonic look, the remaining redhead pinned the old guy with an unamused glower. “Additionally… the fact you’ve wandered in here with _that_ on your feet is grounds for removal. Leather or steel-capped, dipshit. We’re not reattaching your toes if you get them cut off by our machinery.”

“And just _who_ , are _you._ ”

“I’d be Scarlet, _Director_ of the Advanced Weaponry Division.” Grinning, unkindly and probably being an asshole himself, he wandered past the Science Department mook absolutely unbothered by the thought the _good_ doctor would be able to do him any malicious turn. “Now fuck _off_ , before I have security _toss_ you out.”

That honestly would’ve been _it_ … had Rhaspodos not been a fucking _ninja_ in a past-life.

Nearly scaring the _piss_ out of Scarlet when he was just _suddenly there_ walking beside him, his fellow if slighter built redhead grinned at him in the unrepressed manner of absolute trouble-makers everywhere exactly two hallways from where he first caught sight of the SOLDIER arguing with the ever so ‘delightful’ doctor. “Quite the little liar, aren’t we?”

“So you say. I wasn’t kidding, Rhaspodos, we’ve got a backlog of shit to get through. If you need to duck through here again, help out by picking one or two up to utterly destroy.” His backlog was _mostly_ due to being too prolific for his own team, work was one of if not the _only_ escape from his own nightmares that worked reliably. “I may or may not be around.”

“…oh?”

The guy was theater trained, or he really did spout off all the poetry at a drop of a pin as rumors claimed. That one word of inquiry practically _waxed on lyrically_ , rather a feat given it was all of one syllable long.

Not that Scarlet paid a whole lot of attention to rumors, they still liked to claim he really was some kind of undead monster with mechanical skills and an inhuman drive to run his entire team off their own feet by drowning them in too much work.

“I keep odd hours.” He confessed easily as the pair of them reached the hallway that split off and spanned the whole level of level forty-five and reached every workshop on the floor, because it was not only true but understating the issue severely to evade any further inclusion between the two of them. “But I will fully admit I lied about the whole ‘have shit for SOLDIERs needing testing’ thing. There’s nothing ready yet, Research will not get back to us about just _what_ you all can actually do. I’ve got plans… but without hard numbers all we’ve got are plans.”

“Unsurprising. We _are_ rather unique, aren’t we?” Buffing his _nails_ against his chest like the claim was a personal achievement or something, the SOLDIER turned his slightly day-glow green on purely human blue as they came to a stop in the middle of the junction between hallways. “What _kind_ of information, _exactly?”_

There was something… off about that last word. Soured. If Scarlet was a fanciful type, and he tried really hard _not to be_ , he’d almost say it was suspicious.

“Reaction times, for one. Reflexes. If I’m going to make you all equipment that can’t be repurposed against you all, especially by anyone _purely_ normal and not just your fellows, then I’d need to know what limits to design to. If you can hear better than normal, for instance. Then I _could_ make SOLDIER-only comms and mics, where you’d all hear each other but anyone attempting to listen in would only hear mutters. Can I strip out drive assist in the jeeps? _Could_ I build you a motorcycle only SOLDIERs can handle if I tweak the suspension and drive chain to _overreact?”_

That was… actually an idea. Head already filling with just what he could strip and replace it with in the build of the latest model of motorcycle, wondering about how the hell he’d balance that with a side-car if there needed to be one or if the next model wouldn’t have the attachments for it, Scarlet almost walked off to his main development lab.

Almost.

A slim, almost _girlish_ , hand placed on his chest suddenly forced him to a jarring stop with strength behind it that was entirely unexpected. Utterly bemused, half-distracted by his sudden swell of ideas and theories to test and try building, he distractedly looked back to the _teenager_ who was one of the three darlings of the Science Department’s human experimentation work… so far.

There _were_ others, of course. None of them _SOLDIERs_ from the very start of their lives therefore not nearly as talented or skilled as the damn _teenagers_ that had only joined.

Genesis Rhapsodos arched a sardonic, bitterly amused red eyebrow at his fellow redhead. “Just _which_ of these rooms is the ‘green lab’, may I ask?”

Jerking a thumb down the left side of the hall, Scarlet let his attention drift again as he eyed the dregs of his coffee and wondered if the likely cold cup of bitter caffeine was worth the effort to drink anymore. He was awake enough to theorize, so probably not likely. “Down the hall, you _literally_ can’t miss it. It’s the only one with a green door, Rhapsodos.”

“ _Infinite in mystery is the gift of the Goddess._ ” Quoted the younger man, as he turned on a booted heel to wander with a purpose in that direction.

…whatever. At least the disgustingly young teenager was wearing the proper _footwear_. The number of idiots that thought wearing high heels or loafers in the workshops around here boggled Scarlet’s poor exhaustion-riddled mind sometimes.

* * *

‘Scarlet’ would go to great lengths to not think.

Or, rather, not _let_ himself think outside of his very limited sphere of responsibility as defined by his stupidly complicated job that left him equipping a whole fucking _military_ with not only the guns but ammo and transport methods all at the same damn time. Oh, and the equally as stupidly new SOLDIER branch who know one knew much about, they needed nearly _exactly the same_ bullshit… just slightly different.

All without anyone _telling him_ what the damn difference should be.

Then there was the medical technology that needed ‘improvements’ or manufacturing. Somehow, despite that being more of Urban Development’s wheelhouse than his own. He had the larger manufacturing capability, so while he could _see_ why there was always the suspicion he knew perfectly well why someone wanted better ‘cutting edge’ lab equipment…

It had worked for _so many years_ now, ignoring what was under his own nose, to the point he honestly couldn’t really say when he stopped studying/working at a garage shop in some backwater town in nowhere and started working for Shin-Ra’s Weapons Development team. Or when he took over, first the department… then the Division. Single-handedly, apparently, or at least without any objections that stuck out in his admittedly exhaustion-fogged memory.

Didn’t think about how he knew exactly how bad Shin-Ra would be for _everyone_ , even if he couldn’t escape it himself. Didn’t think about the horrors he’d be tangentially implicit in, just by _working here_. Didn’t think about the number of people that were slated to die, either shortly or once given enough time to get there.

Didn’t think about the pitiful amount he _could do_ from where he was now to change _anything_ of the tragedies to come _._ He’d be dead in an embarrassingly short amount of time if he even _tried._

Or worse. Hojo wasn’t exactly _picky_ about his ‘test subjects’.

He had his projects to work on, a responsibility to keep him anchored to the here and now. Adding in other people just made things… complicated. _Especially_ people-shaped _monsters_ that ghosted along in this half-built _monstrosity_ of a company.

…no, he wasn’t talking about the SOLDIERs.

People would get concerned about just _how little_ sleep he really needed before he’d give up and go back to work, nag at him about his caffeine addiction or about ‘taking care of yourself’ and little annoying shitty things like that. It was really easier to do without it all, just show up to work in the early and disgustingly misty pre-dawn of a still being _built_ Midgar morning and not leave until well after the third-shift workers showed up to work. Then collapse in the empty apartment he hadn’t bothered to furnish nearby, sleep for a grand total of maybe two or three hours, then get up and do it all again.

Somedays the time got flipped around on him, leaving him working through three straight days leaving him with the impression it was still a Monday-Tuesday thing and not… say… _Friday._ Scarlet was _always_ the last of his team to leave the Shin-Ra tower complex, and most days the first to return. 

Somedays, he didn’t leave at all.

Generally, once someone noticed he hadn’t left his workshop in over twenty-four hours trying to ignore his own conscience… someone called the Turks.

Scarlet didn’t know who it was, but he wanted them _dead._ Not quite to the point of tying them up and hand delivering someone to the Science labs personally dead, but a close second in ‘maybe I could pay a Turk to do it’ instead dead. And he _would…_ if the Turks didn’t appreciate the whole arrangement a hell of a lot more than he did.

Every damn time, that asshole Veld stuck that little brat they had on his ass. Zeng-something. He really couldn’t be bothered to remember, honestly. The Wutai native a decade younger than him was _utterly_ unflappable in the face of Scarlet’s worse tempers, ignored that the redhead didn’t recall his name at all no matter the countless times they’d seen each other, or that he really didn’t have the damn right to _annoy the shit_ out of the Director of the Advanced Weaponry Division like this.

Stripping the trigger out of the Lariat model shotgun-prototype and solidly trying to ignore the sliver of brash eye-searing light Shin-Ra preferred for the public areas of it’s building trying to blind him, Scarlet carefully dug out the delicate springs as he mechanically disassembled the whole gun on one of his many workbenches.

“Director Scarlet.”

“Not interested.”

“As per our agreement, I am wearing the proper footwear for your workshops.” Having announced it so he didn’t have to turn around to be sure of it before teenager wandered into the dark room only lit by a few too little lamps, or risk being bodily thrown out for violating his few yet well-established safety protocols like when they first met, the damn baby Turk waltzed into the cavernous area practically stuffed to the brim with ammo types and stock metal as well as the machinery to form and create original pieces of weaponry from scratch. “Director, it has been thirty-eight hours since you have clocked in for the day.”

“So?”

“It is generally seen as _unhealthy_ to spend more than twenty hours straight on any one project. Furthermore, past twenty-four hours it is in fact the _next_ day.”

“You can tell time, good for you.” Wiping off his screwdriver on his own pants, it was very likely they were already grimy from crawling around the walking turrets one of his ‘subordinates’ needed help with troubleshooting earlier so a little bit of burnt gunpowder wouldn’t really hurt anything… he eyed the delicate internal workings of his latest baby project for any signs of stress or cracking in the metal from the earlier testing in their firing range to see if trying to ‘link’ the materia slots together into a working gun was possible. “Besides, this is my _fourth_ project this… period.”

“…Director, the Board meeting is in three hours.”

Scarlet blinked twice at the gleaming bits of metal spread out across his mostly wooden workbench, an absolute _relic_ of a thing he seemed to favor over the pure metals ones when he could bother to note such. “ _Fuck._ ”

Not remotely reacting to his less than clean language, the damn Wutai native stole the tool from his limp hand and also somehow managed to push back each of the nine half-empty containers or cups of long since cooled coffee away from his reach. “Perhaps you would like to freshen up on the recreational facility on floor sixty-four, Director? I believe you have a locker there with an appropriate suit for just this kind of occasion.”

Little fucking _smartass_ , he had no such thing. That fucking locker was _Veld’s_ , no matter that the key would probably be in his pockets yet _again_ , and he was significantly _thinner_ than the head of the Turks yet he already knew the damn suit mentioned would fit _him_ perfectly yet again before even seeing it.

Again. For the umpteenth time. Scarlet was honestly not very good at recalling he had executive meetings pending on any given day. Or what day it even _was._

He might be perpetually exhausted and stressed half out of his mind on the average basis, but he’d been doing this shit since before he could _remember_. He knew perfectly well what _was_ and _wasn’t_ his, thank you very much.

His fucking _life_ kind of depended on it. Next-life.

Whatever the hell this all was.

You could get used to a lot of things, and learning to go without anything but the bare minimum of sleep wasn’t all that tricky in the long run. It helped him not remember a time when there didn’t need to be materia slots engraved into everything, there weren’t glowing marbles that let you _cast honest to god **magic spells**_ , when the company he worked for wasn’t a literal blood-sucking entity poisoning/killing the very lands it was built upon, and that _he_ should’ve been a blonde bimbo _she._

_That there **was** a **Goddess** you could find if you knew where. There was an alien invader in the world with them. That the **Planet** was **alive**. That he was just as **complicit** as everyone else in enabling Hojo’s delusions of competence because he **knew** what was going on and had not lifted a finger to stop it. _

Irritably, he turned on his bare metal stool to glare down at the rookie spy/assassin/secret agent whose hands were _empty_ of that screwdriver he stole. “Look, Zen-“

“ _Tseng_ , Director.”

“ _Whatever_. Tetchy brat number whatever. I have _no interest_ in listening to Hoko-hinky whoever blather on, in having hurdy-gurdy guffaw in my damn ear, _nor_ do I remotely want to be within three feet of that fat greasy fuck palm-frond. If the President requires a fucking _cannon_ to wipe some asshole off the face of the Planet, I’m your man and I’ll be happy as a fucking _mu_ to build it… otherwise I really couldn’t care _what_ those assholes want.”

He gained a completely impassive expression on the admittedly older than he tended to recall teen’s lightly tanned face back for the little spiel. “Director Verdot will be there as well.”

Meaning this was a _required_ meeting, not one the young Turk would let him blow off if he complained or stalled long enough.

Verdot, Veld. Whatever. Scarlet knew the man first as Veld, in a time before this. A scary motherfucker in charge of men and women he wanted literally nothing to do with as he’d rather not die again thanks… but as the main weapons technician and inventor of the Shin-Ra Electric Company and its various splinter-companies incorporating everything a budding nation needed… the Turks had more than enough to do with him.

“Furthermore, I notice you have yet again neglected to mention Director Tuesti or Director Verdot in your statement.” Tilting his head to the side only enough to belatedly remind him the younger guy had a ponytail too, if a more neat and contained variant than his wild mess of red hair reaching down to his ass pulled back with a rubber band, beady black eyes boring into Scarlet’s likely already bruised ones. “Or the President.”

“The President is the boss, whatever he says goes kid.” He tiredly reminded his ‘minder’ only slightly bitterly as he dragged his already sore and aching body upright to trudge his way to the elevators to ‘clean up’ before the meeting. “Not much to say, since he’s the one I work for. Verdot’s… terrifying, ain’t touching _that_ with a ten-foot-pole. Tuesti’s honestly okay, got some semi-interesting ideas for me, but he’s even younger than I am and you _know_ those fucking fossils on the board don’t care for us spring _chocobos_ showing them up.”

Tseng followed along in his wake, but Scarlet wasn’t up to using his longer legs and striding along in any useless aim to avoid the Turk. It was honestly more of a shuffle, which did eat into the time he had to prepare himself to listen to self-inflated old windbags wind themselves and each other up about their separate spheres of influence.

Rather pointlessly, because they all did their own damn things and only the President could redirect a ‘Director’ to a new project. The meetings were honestly more about who got what funding for their ‘pet’ projects, though with the war going on Scarlet already had a massive budget and didn’t tend to bother with listening to the others whine about how they could’ve used the gil _better_ than he could.

The ‘main’ workshop of the Weapons Development floor wasn’t honestly all that much, given there were twenty mechanics/technicians that shared the cavernous space all between them. Excluding Scarlet since he had his own side-storage room to work out on his own personal projects.

Mostly this room was utilized as a rough planning area, although there could be prototype joints or machines being tested as something about them required rebuilding/tweaking to fit another project being developed either in another workshop or down a few floors. The other workshops held more building space or specialized machines to shape or meld metal or plastic or rubber to certain forms, or the tools to stress test everything to be sure of how they’d all break down before they did so naturally, but this main room was more ‘research’ than ‘development’ or ‘testing’ in utilization. 

Some idiots _still_ showed up in three-piece _suits_ , though. In a place where getting sprayed with oil was a day-to-day hazard, when hydraulic fluid was used by the _gallon_ and couldn’t be guaranteed to remain where it was poured, where grease and metal grits could travel from one floor to the other with embarrassing ease. 

At the very least, he got steel-capped boots to be mandatory for being on _any_ of his workshop floors. The risk of getting one’s arm ripped off, or being split down the middle or across the waist from hoses or blades getting free of their fittings, was a risk they all ran given the usual size of the machinery they worked on. The number of times he _nearly_ had something impale his foot only to be stopped by a thin piece of steel… 

Reminded, Scarlet suddenly stopped and glared at the floor as his ‘escort’ also halted in place. Just to check the brat really had swapped out his stupid leather loafers for the proper safety equipment.

Boiled and reinforced leather, or steel-capped toes.

“Your concern, as always Director Scarlet, is appreciated.” Tseng informed him perfectly blandly, as if he wasn’t glaring or had halted in the middle of where the teen wanted him to go.

“You see the same number of limbs pulled off as _I_ have, you’d check too.” Belatedly or not.

“Of course.” The utterly unbothered Turk remarked, as most would deliver comments on the weather. “If your concern has been assured, may we continue?”

* * *

“Scarlet.”

Pausing in his work, the redhead slowly lowered the hammer and chisel he was using to engrave a piece of metal intended to be a cross guard for a Rapier to the anvil he was at and turned slightly at the unexpected voice. “Verdot…? You don’t normally come down here. Don’t you usually send what’s his face instead?”

“You don’t normally involve yourself with the company’s internal workings enough to earn my attention, Scarlet.” Announced the middle-aged man with a facial scar cutting into the side of his cheek evenly, taking three steps inside the still mostly dim room now that the weapons maker was aware of his presence in his workshop. “And I send _Tseng_ when you don’t wish to respect the limitations of your body, since you can’t run him off in irritation as you can the others.”

Idly scratching at the underside of his jaw as he worked out the stiff muscles of his right arm, he thought back through the last couple of days to see what the hell the other man was talking about. “The SOLDIER boys? Heard they’ve been through here a couple times.” 

“You have deemed fit to interfere with Doctor Hollander’s checkups, Scarlet. Why?”

“...I get the point of stress testing anything new, Verdot. Fuck, I’m not any stranger to unexpected flaws or unanticipated complications _from_ trying something new.” Turning back to the red-hot metal laying on his anvil, Scarlet stuck the length of tempered mythril back into his rarely lit forge to avoid cold shock weakening the guard. “Stress testing my stress testing. The human body is a state-of-the-art _machine_ even greater than what I can create, the kids will notice anything wrong well before the _good doctor_ could with a solid month of quarantining them in his fucking creepy lab _._ ”

The bellows weren’t automatic, he had to pump them by hand. Little things he preferred to do by hand, made it seem less like he was a kept inventor and more an engineer doing what he honestly _loved_ to do for his life’s work. 

Metal, noticeably, didn’t talk or have needs or wanted to _discuss_ morally ambiguous things with him. Exhausting himself to dreamless sleep was merely a bonus.

“While that answers the obvious, that does not address everything.”

Scarlet let the handle of his bellows go, turning somewhat sharply to the other man and ignoring his leather apron didn’t shield his back from the heat nearly as well as cotton cloth did. “You realize Rhaspodos is _fucking fifteen,_ right? Hewley’s possibly older… or younger, but about the same age. They’re _kids_ , they’re going to get restless and temperamental by _nature._ I have shit I need broken and smashed, let them break and take out their irritations on it. Better _here_ … than on the face of whoever says exactly the wrong thing at the worst moment. Who knows _what_ will happen to the poor asshole’s face after a SOLDIER punches them in it?”

“And this has nothing to do with Rhapsodos or Hewley themselves? Merely their developmental age?”

Scarlet looked Veld in the eye, debating with himself for a long moment. The Turk _was_ the closest thing he had to a friend, for the last decade or so. If the man hadn’t had him killed by now, then he probably wouldn’t. “Why _those_ kids, Verdot? There’s another already in Wutai, isn’t there? There’s several ‘SOLDIERs’ in Research and Development either deployed or coming back, all adults who volunteered knowing the risks. But there’s these _three teenagers_ , _barely_ adults, who out-perform every one of them. Who are _watched_ , by _the Science Department_ , closer than the others. Closer than you do to the recruits in the Infantry who might be at the same age, closer than _your_ boys when you manage to get a young one.”

Veld held his gaze evenly, features thrown into sharp relief from the red-hot glow of his own forge. “If you were not already Shin-Ra’s, Scarlet, your mind would probably be one of our greatest security risks.”

“...it’s _your_ fucking fault I’m ‘the Director’, isn’t it?”

“We had a need, and you did not object. Keeping the bottom feeders from usurping you is merely convenient for us all.” Turning on a heel now that he had apparently satisfied whatever curiosity or security concern he had, the head of the Turks made for the doors to his personal workroom. “A most _efficient_ solution, wouldn’t you say?”

“Verdot. No one wants me to care again.” Scarlet informed the man’s back bluntly, _more_ than sourly aware of the manipulations and antics of the man’s whole department and he had long-since been manipulated to where he was. “It will not end well. Not for me, not for the company, not you, not this fucking _Planet._ ”

“...it’s been well over a decade, Scarlet. Almost _two_ from all accounts. Is whatever you’re running from within your own mind worth the penance you pay? You’ve reduced the deaths from your departments by _factors_ , you’ve improved our supply chains, our equipment, and run one of the more popular divisions to join in the whole company.” Veld gave him one last look over a shoulder, mildly amused at his claim instead of taking it as seriously as he should. “I rather look _forward_ to what you could do once you set aside whatever crime you seem to think you’ve committed and rejoin us in living. Wake up, Scarlet.”

He didn’t. Look forward to anything, he wasn’t sure about the ‘wake up’ request.

Quite frankly, Scarlet wasn’t psychotic or unfeeling or murderous. Every death in his department, accidental or not, made him feel entirely too much grief as it was. That was the problem, with Shin-Ra the way it was now.

There’d be entirely too much death to go around in anywhere from a few short years to a decade more away. He was fucking _terrified_ of it.

Then again… Scarlet wasn’t an unfeeling asshole. Even if he worked for a company that had more in common with a meat grinder than a functioning government entity.

He had a choice, for everyone did when you came down to it, but there was only one choice he _could_ make and still live with it.


	2. Chapter 2

Not his fault, the second time.

He suspected it was Veld’s, because _of course_ the Turk noticed a weakness and decided to take full advantage.

 _Somehow_ , one half-dressed Angeal Hewley heard him in the middle of one of his nightly nightmares and thinking he was under attack or something broke down his front door to his tiny studio apartment. Which startled Scarlet awake, even if the SOLDIER understood his mistake and got embarrassed enough to try retreating after the first three seconds of trying to orientate to what the hell was going on.

“You’re not… living under me, are you? They stopped putting people there for a reason.” He carefully pulled trembling limbs in the right sequence to get himself upright, or as vertical as his frequent nightly terrors allowed him to be right after escaping them.

He just really needed a moment to breathe, to shove his whole complex back into the box it leaked out of. He was _fine._ Really.

Hewley awkwardly fitted the broken door back in place, catching it hastily when the splintered wood threatened to tip backwards into the hallway outside the apartment without the supports he mangled in his haste. “Erm… no, sir. I’m further down the hall.”

So, SOLDIER _did_ mean better senses. Or he had been screaming again.

“I’m Scarlet, kid. I’ll move, there’s no reason I should keep you awake every fucking night.” He might as well finally get himself his own place instead of keep being a cheap asshole and taking up Shin-Ra company property after being promoted out of ‘disposable grunt’ ranks. “Sorry about… this.”

Hewley turned so-grey-they-were-glowing-purple eyes on him in reproach. “ _This_ is not something to apologize for, sir. I will apologize for barging in, and disregarding your privacy, but-“

“They happen nearly _every_ night, SOLDIER. I’ve scared off everyone else nearby, someone should’ve stuck you elsewhere. Not near _me._ ” Roughly rubbing a hand through the unholy _mass_ of hair he never remembered to get cut, Scarlet shoved himself to his feet and staggered to where he had a coffee pot in the kitchenette of his crappy little studio apartment of a home. “And, I suspect this meeting was arranged. Because _of course_ he wants something. The fucking _asshole_ always does.”

Midgar was fucking _cold._ Even during the day, the environmental impact of covering so much of the earth with a metal plate the size they were in the middle of building meant nothing warmed up enough… so floorboards were always icy cold and the air had enough moisture in it to frost everything outside overnight. Drawing out the mako under the earth helped _nothing_ , even if the reactors should’ve meant more heat being dumped into the air.

Heat rose, cool sank. Simple physics.

Once the plate was complete, that would be an entirely different story. Supposedly. Scarlet wouldn’t hold his damn breath, because he knew for a fact Reeve had _concerns_ about the plate’s construction and the full impact they’d see in truth then.

Also, he knew that while the Sector _Slums_ that did not yet exist would be warm from stagnation… the city built over them would not be.

“…sir?” Prompted the second kid who was way too fucking _young_ for the shit he signed up for, his chagrin from how this all started getting trumped by what was probably suspicion. “What do you mean by that?”

“Director Verdot, you’ve _met_ the Turks right?” After getting a nod for his belated question, Scarlet kept on shuffling his now ice-cold feet to his glorious producer of caffeine. “Well, sorry. I’m ‘managed’ by them. There’s no fucking way I’d be the ‘Director of the Advanced Weaponry Division’ without them sticking their noses into things. Given the politically motivated _behemoth shit_ involved in the executive level, and the fact I have _no memory_ of ever dealing with it, I’ve held the suspicion the Turks were involved for years. The complete ass confirmed it a couple days ago.”

“Is that not… overly suspicious of you, Director?”

Taking the flat thin spoon laying innocently on his countertop while his coffee brewed, Scarlet dug it into the wall over his sink and pulled out a whole mess of wires and a little bit of circuitry with a single twist of a wrist and a little dig. “You tell me, kid.”

Hewley stared at the mess he just made by carving a divot out of a wall, then at him, then suspiciously at the very white walls enclosing them. Then back to him. “How did you do that?”

“It’s not _hard,_ I just don’t care if they want to listen to me screaming every night. Come here, kid, I’ll teach you how to spot them. Probably not all of them, it’s been a few years since the Turks had me invent them for them, but enough so you’ll get the idea.”

After a long moment studying him in the gloomy pre-dawn of a Midgar morning, the SOLDIER finally stopped hovering near the broken front door. “Won’t that get you in trouble? If the Turks really are watching you that closely?”

“Verdot should’ve thought of that before placing you nearby enough that we’d meet like this.” Pausing only long enough to pour himself a mug of coffee, and pouring the teenager one when he shrugged to the hefted pot in his direction, Scarlet discarded the little intentionally-bulky listening device to the floor and pointed to the next to-be ‘hole’ in his walls. “I don’t appreciate him involving you with my issues, you didn’t ask and neither did I. So, what you’re looking for is not only holes in the walls you can’t account for… but easily removed fittings.”

<<◊>>

Apartment, or property, hunting gave Scarlet a ready excuse to take another look around him. Tanis might’ve had a _stroke_ at his normally workaholic Director giving him responsibility for everything for however long it’d take, but it was something he couldn’t put off anymore and he knew the Turks knew he’d been forced into it due to their bullshit anyways.

It had been… a _long_ time since Scarlet had started ignoring shit out of utterly real horror of what he _knew_ was coming. Long enough that nearly half the plates of Midgar were finished and a fifth started, long enough for a war to have been going on in the background sometime recently, and with enough time to be had that the several towns that Midgar technically _was_ had realized what would happen the moment the plates were finished.

There were a lot of properties for sale on the ground, and absolutely _no_ extra room available for the residences planned for the plates.

That… actually fitted his purposes just fine.

As one of the executives of Shin-Ra, and a workaholic, he had funds. Much to his own surprise, honestly. A lot of it he really didn’t have any use for aside all the coffee he could drink in a day. And food, but he only occasionally remembered to eat healthy shit and not the processed sludge that came out of the vending machines on floor 64.

Buying a whole house in what would become Sector Seven’s slums… was just him being an asshole. Probably wouldn’t stop anything even if he lived there now, but at least he’d nettle _someone’s_ sensibilities in a decade or so. Even if it was more their pocketbook than their morals.

That he honestly didn’t recall seeing any bank statements was… well. It was a good thing the Turks handled his bullshit for him, Scarlet barely recalled the date on a good day. He could calculate out sheer points in various crystals or metals in his head, factor in the point a metal would melt into things like reactor parts to avoid it deforming under the heat by _degrees_ , or even estimate total weight of turrets loaded or not within a nicely slim error range… but a string of numbers he probably only saw once that contained every gil he had to his name?

…yeah, he was a mess. A barely functioning mess, but still a mess.

Pocketing his new house key, he shuffled off from the banking level of Shin-Ra’s lower floors and down through the lobby levels to get to the ‘main’ street level. Which wasn’t street level, or at least until the plates were finished wouldn’t be ‘street level’ yet. Shin-Ra owned a good chunk of Sector One still, that’s where he had been living since… well. Since.

The old lady he bought his new house from would be taking his gil and moving to Kalm, about when the ink dried on the paperwork he just finished. She currently lived in another property she was going to outright abandon to the realtors instead of wait and hope someone else stupid enough to buy it from her would show up, so the whole ‘by today or right this second’ sale was entirely well within her means. He wished her luck, probably, and maybe the mention of Costa del Sol would get her to change her mind while she was property hunting herself.

Sectors One, Eight, Two, _and_ Three of Midgar’s upper plates were completed. Four and Seven were the ones being built now, and reactors Zero to Four were all operating to specs. As his Division had more production capacity than Urban Development did, Scarlet knew exactly how much of the reactors were active due to how much of the parts they had completed so far had been sent out.

Meaning, his new ‘front’ yard was more of a bare patch of barren dirt than a lawn slowly being consumed by the growing shadow of the city above it. The reactors were already draining enough of the Lifestream to kill everything within sight of Midgar, eternally in shade yet or not.

Mako.

Whichever.

Scarlet paused, got in line and waited just like everyone else, bought himself another cup of coffee to go from one of the little cafés ringing the Shin-Ra building then went back to thinking over his ‘problem’ as he trudged back to his soon to be vacant company issued apartment.

He needed to grab his coffee maker, and the coffee beans. Then his only remaining piece of materia. The rest of the shit was not his and would be replaced anyway.

Although it was not really _his_ problem he was pondering, per say. _The_ problem. Basically _everyone’s_ problem.

Project G, Project J, JENOVA, the Mako Reactors, Shin-Ra as a whole, the Wutai War, AVALANCHE both the first and second versions, and _all_ the deaths that could be pinned on the very company that he worked for. _That_ problem.

Scarlet had been trying to forget it all for about two decades now, not _one_ Veld, and given how badly he failed at it then probably he was expected to do something about… something. He might have a very damn good head for figures and facts, but no human memory was _that_ detailed without being an eidetic one.

His brain wasn’t _that_ good.

So.

Probably the Planet, or the Goddess Minerva, or the dead Cetra race, knew of him. If he was going that far out on a branch, then it was even more likely that he knew what pain and damage was to come held the issue of his nightmares. Whichever one was at fault would not let him forget, then liked to add in impressions and feelings playing a game or watching a movie did _not_ impress upon anyone.

The foreign feelings didn’t match up enough to make any sense, so he knew in a way that he was determinedly _not thinking about_ that it was _another’s_ sympathetic responses to the information he knew. Another… like a certain Cetra woman who was already dead but knew enough of Hoko-hinky’s work to have experienced the same pain.

Aerith’s mother, Ifalna.

Disquietingly it was probably entirely possible to identify and pin the blame on one of them, the Goddess, the Planet, or Ifalna. When the very earth below the plates and his boots had an intelligence complex enough to waken it’s own Guardian Weapons when threatened… coming to the conclusion that his memories and thoughts weren’t his own turned from being the figment paranoia of a crazy madman into something that might just be as real as his own existence.

 **_Final Fantasy VII_ ** had been a game and had _game mechanics._ Which, when you translated that over into a real and functioning society of living people… some things didn’t exactly hold true and had only been there due to technical limitations. **_Advent Children_** was only marginally more reliable due to being a movie, but **_Crisis Core_** and **_Dirge of Cerberus_** held the same flaws.

Aside the Lore. While he had not confirmed anything by himself just yet… he had talked to both Genesis Rhapsodos and Angeal Hewley. Who _were_ SOLDIERs, as young as the two of them were, and there was an on-going war. About five to ten years away, they’d either be dead or dying and shit hitting the fans level of spectacular disasters would be inbound.

There were no ‘Phoenix Down’ available in any shop to buy, no cheap and easy escape from death. Potions were very much a medical thing that came into the fore because this world had monsters that could and _did_ eat people, ethers and the items that cured status effects were _drugs_ and _stimulants_ used by the guards and fighters that kept the various towns and villages safer than most places when just simply healing their wounds wasn’t enough, all vegetables were called ‘greens’ instead no matter the color of the plants/gourds/fruit/roots in question, there were marbles of crystalized Lifestream that let one cast any number of spells or enchanted the body or summoned legendary monsters _into reality from nothing_.

If materia could be used to return life to those dead he didn’t yet know, but he could likely check into it when he went back into work.

Death was permanent, some monsters could _curse humans to death_ if they weren’t killed off quickly. Large stretches of the world were uninhabitable due to the monster populations being so damn deadly. War very much _was_ enough of a threat that it could be used to force another nation to bend the knee.

A couple years ago, President Shin-Ra got offended or grumpy or whatever that Wutai didn’t remotely want Mako Reactors in their lands and declared war over the right to do it anyways. Which, since Shin-Ra was a _company_ and not a _government_ with elected officials, he could do without caring all that much if anyone really wanted to see the company waging war. The fact they were _getting away with it_ … probably had to do with the fact Shin-Ra was one of if not the only major employer in both the Eastern and Western Continents. Enough to be it’s own self-run government, and given all the rights of a functioning piece of state.

How it all got that way was less interesting to him than the fact they _could_ do it.

The _Mayor_ of _Midgar_ was a Shin-Ra employee, an elected official working for a privately owned company. Mayor Domino had been regulated as an _archivist_ rather than be _used_ as a public official that could influence anything.

Technically, Scarlet had floors 40 to half of 45 to his Division. There was little _production_ being done by him in the Shin-Ra building itself, most manufacturing took place either in the factories being slowly covered up by Midgar’s plates or in other places like Kalm or Junon. Most of the inventions and hardware development occurred on his floors rather than out of sight somewhere else, because it was easier to keep an eye on his various too-smart-for-their-own-good engineers and technicians when they were at hand rather than half the damn Planet away.

He flatly refused anything with Hojo’s name on it when his various minions of multiple flavors were requested for transferring to different departments, though he was well aware enough that it had not remotely stumped the scientist in getting whatever the hell he wanted regardless. While he would approve Urban Development poaching his people both Public Safety and the Space Program requests got a hairy eyeballing, he held no illusions. They got _returned_ , though… whether that was due to the Turks watching or wanting to prevent their absent-and-foggy-minded weapons maker head of Weapons Development trying to gut the creepy Professor with his bare hands was a question.

Scarlet didn’t have much to his name, aside a disgustingly obese salary and a coffee maker he’d cheerfully worship if it ever gained sentience, but he had been given responsibility anyways and it seemed Veld was at least aware he’d defend his responsibilities if he gave him some.

…or the Turks wanted to _avoid_ having it confirmed that Scarlet was suspicious of the head of the Science and Research Division’s aims or what lengths a guy with absolutely little to no personal reasons to stay alive would do if he suspected his minions were being used as test subjects without their own permission.

He might die in the attempt, but then maybe _something_ would be prevented. For five seconds. Maybe.

Well. He was the idiot that decided to pull his head out of his own ass twenty years too late. Everything either was or would be in place to contribute their own little piece of hell to the shitstorm currently rolling down hill at everyone fucking _alive_ right now…

As he had no real plan, nor any intention of ending up where he did without his own permission you fucking _asshole Veld_ , Scarlet was probably not going to be of much use. Aside information because he knew a lot that even the Turks didn’t know he knew.

A lot of what he knew would be cause enough that his co-workers probably would see his head part ways with the rest of him.

* * *

Mako sciences were still mainly ‘ _what_ science?’

The Science and Research Division were the foremost experts in the field, yeah… but they also thought pumping contaminated mako into a human body was also a good idea. For… some bizarre reason it _worked_ , which he suspected had less to do with the scientists and doctors making up that division than it did with what they were doctoring those SOLDIER injections with.

In raw form dug out of the earth, mako was _poisonous as hell_. It lurked anywhere from _meters_ under the earth to _miles_ in underground streams that could shift and flow without notice in some places, mining efforts occasionally tended to end messily when they accidentally ran into the Lifestream. It was close enough to the surface of the Planet that it was entirely possible for _whole population centers_ to _sink_ into it. Everyone, every _monster_ and humanoid no matter what they were, had a small bit of mako in them naturally.

Scarlet had a passing familiarity with how to incorporate crystalized mako or the magical little orbs into his work, all weapon makers did. A _lot_ of it was passed down from master to student and the visiting fellow student from another village then to a little brat hammering the dinks out of random bits of armor because no one else had any kind of idea how to maintain their equipment for long-term, since materia orbs were really scarce in number and few competent magic using warriors would wait the weeks or months it might take for anyone to develop something new when what worked was still good.

At least, that’s how he remembered it being explained to him when that middle-aged lady with steel-grey hair told him when she found him trying to save a few old and nearly broken armor bits with a campfire and a crumpled iron pan turned improvised hammer.

Mideel was a _fishing village._ Worse, an _island fishing village_. Glassblowers galore, not one damn blacksmith since there _wasn’t_ any raw ores in range to be made use of. All their weapons and armor had been imported, until Scarlet started fixing shit rather than being dragged out to sea to fish for a living.

Getting materia to be channeled through pure metal or alloy was practically… impossible.

Skin contact, close proximity to the head with powdered mako lining a socket to direct ‘magic’ into it, or nothing. The ‘slots’ could be _linked_ , using either a line of more powdered mako or inlaid crystal shards as fine as the edge of a razor connecting two (or possibly more) slots.

Apparently no one else had thought to let the crystals be set close enough together for linking them to be possible, since if you put a Magic Materia next to a Magic Materia nothing really happened… but if you put a Magic Materia next to a _Support_ Materia like _All?_

Hence why everyone thought _Scarlet_ was a genius when someone finally noticed the improving equipment in Mideel and the slowing rate of imports then started asking around. He hadn’t thought it was unique when he did it to the spear he used to use back in Mideel as part of the village’s defenders in order to use the one Support Materia in the whole village, and he knew in a way no one else could replicate that slots could be linked somehow before that.

Then again, All had only _recently_ been identified. As in, in the last two or so years. Frankly if someone put an All Materia next to his old Elemental Materia, he would be the first to admit he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. They were _little glowing marbles_ , they didn’t magically tell anyone what they were if you couldn’t identify it by color hue alone.

Trial and error at it’s finest, only by using one would you know if you held a Fire Materia or an Earth one. If you accidentally used something that drew more magic out of your body than you could afford in the middle of a fight for your life against the monsters that prowled the world?

You wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone what magic it was that killed you, or just where you picked it up from. Worse, if it was a Command or Independent Materia and didn’t _do_ anything you could notice?

He pitted whichever poor sucker found out what the Enemy Skill Materia did, although he was curious enough to wonder how it went. There _was_ at least one in Shin-Ra’s armory with only a couple abilities to it.

Even more mind-boggling, materia _learned_ and _grew_. The more one was used to kill anything with an internal bit of mako to them, the stronger and bigger it got. ‘Mastered’ materia were stronger than unused materia by _factors_. Once one was strong enough, it _spawned_ an unmastered one by dividing its mass into a new ball of crystalized mako while going back to the same ‘unmastered’ size while retaining the developed power.

Also, once that happened, figuring out which one was the mastered materia and which was the spawned one was a bit of a tricky question until tested. Unless the mastered materia was equipped, as they properly should be, then whichever one wasn’t attached to you was the ‘new’ one.

Kind of where _Limit Breaks_ came from, that internal store of mako everyone had could _also_ grow and learn by killing things. It wasn’t quite the natural magics the Cetra once had, probably a lingering legacy in their blood from when the race disappeared, but a lesser variant that one could develop if you fought long enough.

Bracers were the _main_ way one used materia, which pressed the little crystals to the skin to be used. Armor, from the full knight plate that had been ditched about fifty years ago in favor of ablative plates and reinforced leather to ceramics that were getting less popular but were still heavily used in Wutai, were the _second_ favored method by which materia users carried their preferred loadouts. Weapons normally only had slots near the grips or handles, for one to protect the little crystals and for another to enable their use.

Slots were more… spring-loaded clamps that held the little crystals. Allowed for growth of the materia without cracking the weapon or armor it was equipped into, specifically made from a doctored alloy mix of copper-silver-gold with an equal weight of powdered mako crystals mixed in.

Now, instead of using powered mako crystal or a line of crystal shards that could be ‘shoved’ back as the materia grew but had to be reset once the materia used in it was mastered or a smaller one needed to be swapped in for whatever situation, Scarlet could inlay a small measure of liquid mako and two cylinders of hardened crystal with a tiny mythril spring to ensure the slot links never needed repair. Stupidly easier on him and those using the linked slots for whatever aim.

He had… less success with sculpting the tiny rods of crystalized mako than he did with just using the liquid/powdered stuff. Molds for the mako to harden in were honestly more use than trying to carve the shit, and didn’t leave his hands full of nicks that the poisonous crap could get into.

The _types_ were known, thankfully. Most of them.

Summons, Magic, Command, Support, and Independent. Red, green, yellow, blue, and purple.

No black or white materia listed, but that wasn’t surprising. There probably were only one of each in _existence_. There was nothing about a ‘Goddess Materia’ yet and nothing about any materia _not_ crystal ball shaped, which was… interesting. He knew for a fact they existed, there was a Materia Cave near Mideel he went and checked out when he had been that foolish that gave him a little pyramid he knew was the Support Materia called Quadra.

Pyramid-shaped materia, _which did work_ as materia… once the slightly odd shape was accounted for. He _knew_ everyone that ever spotted the damn thing thought it was just a very oddly symmetrical spire of blueish purple crystalized mako and not a usable bit, since the other three materia he had to his name before joining Shin-Ra had been given to the armory to be made use of.

Or impressed against his will.

He honestly didn’t recall how he joined the company, just that it hadn’t really bothered him at all at the time. The more normal-looking Ice, Lightning, and Elemental Materia he once had were honestly of more use there being loaned out to the Infantry or SOLDIERs than with him.

What he didn’t know, and made a point in bothering Mayor Domino about giving him, was what _everyone else_ knew about materia.

Formed from excessive heat and pressure while in raw mako, the little crystal balls of power tended to bubble up from the Lifestream in specific ‘springs’ around the world. Whether it was a mix of materia types or they spat out the same type every time they ‘bubbled’ wasn’t exactly well understood. Partially due to the issue in _identifying_ them by sight, partially due to only recently had any one centralized area became a depository of information and things compiled enough to start people wondering.

Not that somewhere like Kalm or Mideel or Corel would tell Shin-Ra what springs they had nearby, in hopes of keeping the rare little balls of magic powers to themselves and not ‘confiscated’ for the war effort.

More interesting, there were no Summons Materia that came from any known springs. He kind of understood why not, there were only one of each legendary hero/monster so there really only _could_ be one materia that could summon them to loan out their skills for a few moments. Although, since that was so… it made Scarlet a tiny bit glad to not have been alive when the Cetra were still a people.

When those legendary heroes/monsters existed, rather than now when all he had to quietly give himself an ulcer over were the SOLDIERs were still growing into themselves a couple floors away.

Ifrit and Odin were already two in Shin-Ra’s control, rumor around the company his minions liked discussing had it that Titan was in the possession of one of the Turks. Given he knew there were _sixteen_ of the fucking things, he was perfectly fine being a kept man if the company would prevent him facing down any of them.

There was a shit-ton of Cetra lore also available to information seekers able to get into the Corporate Archives floor sixty-two, since Shin-Ra liked to think of itself as the Ancient race’s _successor_. A lot of it was mystical mumbo-jumbo, even more were the expected ‘fables’ they probably once used to teach little Cetra kids what not to do, and truly little had any practical use outside ‘right and wrong’ tales.

Other than for him to be a bit sore over the fact the ‘Ancients’ didn’t _need_ materia for some of their shit, apparently. Lucky, if dead, assholes.

Scarlet discarded that book, jolting down a reminder to talk to Reeve about if they had to filter the reactor’s mako intake or outtake for little crystalized balls on his already messy as all fuck notepad.

It probably wasn’t likely the inquiry was needed. The head of Urban Development likely already knew of the issue or had something in place to keep it from being a problem, the guy was smarter than him and likely knew a hell of a lot more than he did about the varied uses and products of mako. He just liked to have something semi-prepared before he was forced to make small talk with the guy, being decently alright as a person on the Shin-Ra executive board made for closemouthed people.

Pushing himself to his feet again, he winced when a number of his own joints sounded a cracking protest. Most noticeably his knees, hips, and several bits of his own spine were _not_ happy he had spent however many hours seated and bent over a table reading several books.

“That sounds familiar.” Rather tartly observed Mayor Domino as he rounded some bookshelves to the little reading spot situated in the center of his archives, giving Scarlet a mostly faked glare with weathered hands planted on his hips. “Have you been here all _night_ , boy?”

“Might’ve been.” If it was morning, anyways. With another wince, because he _was_ trying to be better… it’d just take some time, Scarlet started stacking books to be put away again. “Sorry for invading your space, Mayor.”

If it _was_ morning, he could probably talk to Tuesti before he wandered off to attempt to sleep today. The whole question of materia crystals in the reactors gave him a niggling idea, and there was the Huge Materia to account for too.

Shin-Ra was supposed to be able to _manufacture_ their own materia crystals, right?

Heat and pressure were _stupidly_ easy to obtain when you had industrial pumps and a storage container strong enough to withstand it.

He hesitated, but obligingly gave over the tomes when Domino impatiently gestured him to. “Go to bed, Director. You might be young enough to run around two full days with only a night’s rest, but it’s really not healthy for you.”

“Err… I’ve got a man to talk to first, safety related. Then I’ll go to bed, Mayor.”

He earned himself a judgmental sniff as the older man wandered off to restock his shelves. “See that you do, Scarlet.”

Sheepishly collecting his scribbles, he headed for the stairs. He’d check the cafeteria first, then the Urban Development offices, before doing it tomorrow or later today. Even if he was impatient to get on this idea, or at least get it clarified, it was probably well past time for him to clock out before he got nattered at.

His luck was with him, maybe. Turk whatever-his-name was equally on his way to him as Scarlet was to the quietly munching head of Urban Development, the Wutai native obediently held his silence while in a public space and Tuesti only directed a mildly respectful look at him when the Director of Advanced Weaponry walked up to his table.

“Tuesti, I’ve three questions.”

“…oh?”

“We _sure_ the Reactor intakes won’t pull in crystalized mako to muck up the generators?”

“There’s filters.” The polite younger man informed him pleasantly, a small smile appearing under his neatly trimmed beard as he got the general impression of inquiry Scarlet had. “Anything of size to be troubling is pulled out, although there isn’t really any usable _materia_ caught. Mostly fragments, quite possibly from the mako springs allowing crystalized bits to fall back into the mako. We give them to you, remember?”

“Right, second question. Are you _sure_ nothing is going to _form inside_ the Reactors while they’re running? Without coming in from the mako being drawn up?”

Reeve blinked at him in surprise, the small smile getting lost in a thoughtful expression as he fidgeted with a slice of pahsana greens. “Mathematically, it shouldn’t. The mako cools significantly once drawn out of the ground. Admittedly I haven’t checked that yet with the other Reactors being built taking up the bulk of my concerns… there is probably a small possibility of that happening during the processing phase. The outtakes should pump anything hard enough out without too much trouble… does materia _float_ in mako or sink?”

“…pending clarification, sure. More your department than mine.” Shrugging that off, Scarlet waved his little pad of memo paper between them. “Finally, if it takes _pressure_ and _heat_ to make materia from mako… what’s stopping us from manufacturing our _own_ materia? I’ve got the pumps, and if you’ve got needed density and the calculations to make a secured container…?”

The man blinked again, as most in range of the two of them shut up whatever little conversations they were having to shamelessly eavesdrop on their conversation. “I’m not entirely certain if we could artificially _reach_ the pressure level required. Much less contain pressurized mako under the required heat levels with anything purely manmade.”

“Anything under pressure heats up, it’s why I can forge a blade with only intermitted breaks to heat the metal back up to temp. I’m less concerned by the heat than the pressure levels required.” Hitching his shoulders up in a shrug, Scarlet eyed his messy notes again. “Besides which, this is perfectly possible _naturally_. Meaning, since we’re not all burning up as something below us goes critical mass or implodes, the level of pressure and the requisite heat must be obtainable. Or, maybe, only _one_ is required. Heat or pressure, not both.”

Reeve dropped his greens back to his plate, linking his fingers together to press against his mouth and think about it for a couple seconds. “Isn’t this more _Research’s_ field than my own?”

“The research’s been done,” he waved his papers at the man to prove that point, “this is just unusual application. We’ll probably kick it to them once we know it’s possible or not for refinement, but the idea of manufacturing materia is _entirely_ Weapons Development’s field. And I’m asking _you_.”

Mostly because Scarlet _really hated_ Hoko-hinky’s guts and wouldn’t willingly talk to him even if his own life depended on it. Made company mandated parties or events awkward, but he couldn’t make himself play nice with the immoral asshole scientist trying to play god.

Leaning forward to snatch his memo pad, Tuesti thumbed through it. If he could read Scarlet’s messy handwriting or not was a question, but apparently he could read enough to reassure himself of whatever reservations he had. “I’ll start the calculations, Director Scarlet. I’m certain I’ve got the original temperature and pressure requirements from learning how to dig the Reactors intake pipes, exactly how much more might be needed will be a question answered by trial and error.”

“I’ll,” there was a rather pointed cough right behind his left shoulder that made him roll his eyes, “get my second Tanis to prepare a space and the various pump prototypes we made up for you somewhere. Preferably somewhere we can stand safely out of the way and contain any mako spillage that’ll happen. _Then_ I’ll work on the pumps and getting the sheet metal for any containers assembled to weld together once you know what we need to contain. One we’ll boil mako in, the other will be the tricky one.”

Reeve smirked like a smug little asshole that didn’t have Turks watching his sleeping patterns. “Then I’ll see you later today, Director?”

“Shut up, _Director._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

The third time was completely his own fault.

Not the incident, that was completely out of his department.

Scarlet _barely_ heard someone screaming, buried in the depths of his personal workshop trying to finish Rhapsodos’ red-bladed Rapier before starting another project. Between the grindstone screeching its usual protest and the sound of machinery pumping, metal scraping against itself, or rattling materials as things were tweaked on this and some floors below him, he hadn’t been completely sure of what he heard for a couple moments.

Gingerly pulling Rapier away from his grinding wheel, he cocked his head to see if he could hear anything more as he flicked the off switch. Accidental in nature or just someone getting surprised, Scarlet still had a bit of a reputation of being very safety-minded and probably was needed to solve whatever it was even if it was just sending someone down to the medical floor or reprimanding whichever idiot thought this was the place to play a prank.

Rhapsodos’ sword had a blade of a length that was _entirely_ unwieldy, especially if you were turning in a murky-lit room. It wasn’t anything new to someone who grew up using spears, just the fact the entire length was sharpened and therefore made for few places to hold onto gave him a slight pause. There _was_ an edge already, he was just honing it in preparation of handing the weapon over to the SOLDIER First-Class that had put exactly _fifteen requests_ to Weapons Development about a ‘proper sword’ for himself.

Scarlet _intended_ to go back to finishing Rapier just to shut the brat up since he had _enough_ paperwork to do per day, so he just carried it with him. Also troublemakers were less belligerent in his face when he was holding something sharp and pointy.

When he palmed the controls for the door, he instead ended up using the longsword-rapier to impale some blue-skinned _something_ trying to gut one of his people _._

Almost with a human face, if a human had about eight tongues coming out of the mouth and snake-tails with four arms which bled blue blood. Gripping the Rapier’s hilt with both hands, Scarlet hauled the blade out of the almost humanoid-monster and shoved it back in through the already occupied and therefore _held open_ mouth. Piercing the brain… hopefully.

If it had one.

“What the _fuck._ ” He demanded of the entire suddenly deathly quiet workshop flatly, extending a hand to one of his mechanics he belatedly recalled was the woman he set in charge of tweaking the pumps they had for next week’s large-scale experiment in trying to manufacture materia.

She hissed in pain as he hauled her to her feet, gripping her side that had a couple freely bleeding slashes already. “I didn’t even _hear_ it, Director. We just saw it for an instant and then ran for it. Did… oh, _Maria._ ”

There was a girl, barely of age just like the SOLDIER boys, about ripped in _half_ laying partially in the workshop’s doorway. Scarlet might not have realized he had anyone that young in his department, but he was already pissed off from the surprise and getting to enraged from the absolutely _pointless_ death pretty damn quick already.

“Hit the emergency alarm. GRAB A WEAPON!” Leaving the Rapier where it was, even if it was _really_ disrespectful he wasn’t used to swords, it took him two steps to grab one of the Partisan model spears leaning up against a dark corner of his workshop. “There’s Restore Materia and a medical kit on the wall, Rache.”

“Yes, Director.”

The panic button that should summon the Infantry up to help them contain the problem, which really _should’ve_ already been pulled if monsters got into the Shin-Ra building from the lower floors, started flashing yellow-red-yellow across everything as everyone from the engineers to the mechanics started grabbing anything at hand to defend themselves.

Well. A few of them.

All those recruited from outside of Midgar, from where they didn’t have a standing Infantry to cull the monster populations before they could reach whatever city center or village, immediately followed his example and retrieved the multitude of weapons they stashed near their workstations. Those that obviously lived in the city their whole lives dithered as their fellows armed themselves, which was _most of them_ or the complacent, grabbing experimental guns or weapons in the middle of being refined in lieu of personally chosen equipment.

“Anyone that CAN’T fight, or do not trust themselves to, get to the green labs with Rache. You’re on medical standby, _move it_ people!” Scarlet belted out, sourly aware he was rusty as all hell and privately suspected if they lived through this he wouldn’t be the only one looking to resharpen old skills in the sparing area Public Safety maintained. “Everyone else, to the hallway. Alert the other labs, raid the armory for anything else you need, then form a skirmish line outside the door to the staircase.”

He’d shut down the elevators, himself. For one it was an emergency and if the power got disrupted some idiot would get stuck in there if possible, and for another to control the direction any monsters could come from more tightly.

Poor Infantry suckers would have to storm up twenty flights of stairs and then more past them, but someone should’ve thought about that before building a skyscraper seventy floors tall.

Pushing in the call elevator button then twisting a quarter turn to the left was the ‘emergency call’ that would redirect the elevator cars to his floor without stopping anywhere else. Reeve told him that the last time they had a meeting about what pounds per square inch he had to account for in fabricating the tanks for the mako-materia experiment, which let the head of Urban Development call back up an unheld car when a bitchy clerk tried to ignore them heading his way.

Pausing only long enough to grab one of the Mythril Bangles on a shelf of the main workshop waiting for more experiments on linking slots to see if three interlinked slots were possible, Scarlet absently hooked it around a wrist and felt up his various pockets.

Had he left Quadra at home or did he remember to bring it?

He _intended_ to leave it equipped in the Rapier and give it to Rhapsodos, because again he didn’t honestly fight all that much himself so it was basically collecting dust with him. It was a bit awkward to put in a slot intended to hold _balls_ instead of a pyramid, but it did fit.

Sort of. Loosely.

Jamming it in so the linked slots would work, in his bangle not the spear’s three sets of two linked slots, Scarlet joined the rush of people heading to the armory they supplied. The poor boy that usually tracked what went out of the ‘finished prototypes/weapon experiments supplies’ armory had gotten shoved to one side, but he had caught enough of what was going on from both the alarms and the general tone aimed his way to be as pale as a ghost. “Head to the green lab, kid. Pitch in with the medical relief.”

“Sure, Director.” Abandoning everything remotely responsible now someone had told him to do something, the young man ran joined the trickle of engineers and mechanics leaving with his stocks of weapons.

“Tanis, is that a fucking _war hammer?”_

His second in command cheerfully threw a glowing green bauble at his head, grinning a fit to crack his damn face with the oversized hammer in hand. “Of _course_ it is, Director! You didn’t _notice_ before this? I’m hurt…”

“Fucking _rockheads._ ”

“Fishy-boy.” The irrepressible Corel native shot back, easily getting through the greatly reduced number of people still looking for something specific on the ransacked armory shelves. “Not all of us come from little sea-side villages where _spears_ are sensible weapons. It’s a Lightning Materia, by the way.”

Scarlet had already equipped it and was reaching for his heavy-bladed Partisan again, but that was nice to know. “You know, there’s _Crystal_ Bangles in Mideel. They managed to put three sets of linked slots in them after I showed them how. If we live through this, I’m buying a load for the whole department.”

“Corel’s mostly known for its coal, man.” With an easy shrug, the other man hefted his hammer over a shoulder and wandered with a purpose probably for the still assembling skirmish line. “But maybe your little experiment with Director Tuesti will give us something to put in all those bangles.”

A slightly muffled shout of _‘holy fuck’_ had the both of them running instead of an orderly walk, just in time to turn the corner as one of his engineers had the whole ranged firing line open up with the absolutely _eclectic_ assortment of firearms.

This monster, less humanoid in appearance and a tiny bit more like a Kalm Fang only with human hands and feet, got torn apart by twenty bullets impacting it at once in a very gory display. Some of the temporary skirmish line then _forgot_ how to release a trigger, and it took several shouts of ‘cease fire’ to get them to stop.

Tanis finally looked a bit grim, staring down one of the worst offenders who held an assault rifle intended to be the prototype for a new Infantry standard issue. “I’ll sort out our men, Director. You’d better secure the elevators. Want some?”

“And ladies.” Scarlet added fairly before some of the offended ladies in question did more than frown in pointed irritation because his ears hurt enough thanks, pushing and twisting the elevator call button like Reeve had shown him. “No, I’m going to hit the-“

Something entirely green swung through the opened doors to the staircase, slithering _over_ the ragged line of volunteer fighters attempting to reload or resort themselves out.

He _barely_ got the haft of his Partisan up in time to prevent his throat getting torn out from way too many teeth of the Malboro-thing-with-too-many-eyes-not-on-stalks-a-nose-and-three-ears, Tanis managed a two-handed swing to the tentacle-gut that canceled out enough momentum he didn’t end up on his ass with however much monster on top of him. Then Rache tackled it off him, wielding a pair of trench knives with enough rage just about everyone backed up from the engineer busy making purple-and-green mincemeat out of the bizarre and probably poisonous thing.

“… _ookay._ ” The Corel native muttered quietly before waving his oversized hammer at his completely dumbfounded line of gunners. “Everyone with _automatic_ weapons to the front, single-shots behind them, rifles to the rear. We’re going to occupy the stairwell, people. Melee fighters, the next landing. Riflemen, do _not_ shoot our own people. Aim at the next one.”

Scarlet himself hit the call elevator button a few more times. Just… you know, because. “Thought I told you to go to the green labs.”

“Shut up, _sir._ ” Sniffing faintly miserably, his Kalm native engineer kicked the pile of monster parts bleeding slightly glowing purple blood viciously before stalking off after Tanis’ group.

He hit the button a few more times, even if he knew there were fifty-some floors the cars could be on and it’d take _time_ for them to reach his. It made him feel better.

The car coming up from the lower floors held three armed SOLDIERs First-Class in it, probably straight up from the sparring floor in Public Safety, so Scarlet merely leaned in and pulled the brakes. “Don’t use the elevators in an emergency, if the power to them gets knocked out… _while_ you’re in it? You could either be stuck between floors or the elevator could crash down however many floors.”

“Ah.” Angeal Hewley answered for the three of them, having the grace to look slightly sheepish while Genesis Rhapsodos and one surprisingly shorter than expected Sephiroth stepped out of the elevator without comment. “Thank you for the warning, Director Scarlet.”

Rhapsodos immediately bent to examine the crossbreed Malboro, idly toeing the cut off eyestalks in amusement. “ _When the war of the beasts brings about the world’s end…_ quite the work done here. Yours, Director?”

“I don’t use knives.” What the hell was taking the other elevator so long?

It was aimed down right now, it should’ve had much less distance to travel.

“Whatever. SOLDIERs.” Scarlet ripped his ID card off the retracting string/gear gizmo that held it to his belt, handing it to the silver-haired teenager holding a no-dachi entirely too big for him. “Sephiroth, figure out what the hell is going on and how to stop it. Then stop it, if you would. Hewley, Rhapsodos, there’s a few _hundred_ people above us. If the Infantry and Public Security didn’t hit the alarms before us, odds are it’s happening above and trickling down once they either avoid the SOLDIER floor or run out of people to hunt and kill. You’ll have to hit up Urban Development for another keycard to reach the top floors, but the Turks probably should have the President well in hand by now. Probably.”

The silver-haired teen silently nodded, taking the offered card that would probably get him higher than his own. “Of course, Director.”

“Rhapsodos, your sword is mostly done.” Scarlet called after the trio of SOLDIERs absently, still sourly eyeing the elevator bank while he plotted black death for Hojo. “Bring it back afterwards so I can ensure the edge is finished. I used it to stab one of these monsters to death. Sorry.”

“ _Even if the morrow is barren of promises, nothing shall forestall my return!”_

“…does he do that a lot, then?” He queried either the wall or the cringing Hewley, who had paused to wait for the other SOLDIER unlike Sephiroth who continued to the still open door to the stairwell and floor forty-five’s hodgepodge skirmish line.

Then again, he had just distracted his only backup with the promise of something sharp and pointy. Probably smart of him to wait.

The first answer he got was a tired sigh. “When excited, yes sir. Or annoyed, or angry, or any time honestly. He got… obsessed with this obscure play, when we were kids.”

“There’s worse quirks to have.” Opinioned Scarlet absently, tapping the tip of his spear on the floor while he impatiently waited for the next elevator car to arrive. “Which play?”

“LOVELESS.”

“I’ve… heard of it. Isn’t it unfinished?”

“ _There is no hate, only joy._ Director… you’re a man after my own heart, aren’t you?”

“…you’re so full of _behemoth shit_ I’m impressed you don’t dissolve in the shower, Rhapsodos.” He never had a kid half his age try to flirt with him before, and he didn’t really appreciate it. “Also, if I get _one more_ fucking application for a sword from you?”

The wild bark of laughter had him glancing over, to the self-same kid whirling around the oversized Rapier like it was a twig in his hands while his burlier friend facepalmed in the background. “I am _quite_ satisfied, sir. There may be one or two still being processed…”

Scarlet pointed down the hallway with his spear. “March, SOLDIERs.”

Of course, that was when the other elevator car arrived. When he had his Partisan pointing in the wrong direction and after letting himself get distracted.

There was way too much blood, red human blood, splattered on the floor of the car for the delay to have been remotely innocent. The black hide of the overly bulky red-maned beast with massive horns awkwardly jammed into the tight confines obviously grumpy and pissed off helped nothing.

Scarlet pulled back his long-handled weapon, ramming the metal capped butt into the eye of the Behemoth that itself rammed the elevator doors off their tracks with an ear-shattering bellow. Even more angry now and not remotely deterred, it shook a massive head to dislodge the spear and gored a long divot out of his arm with its horns.

Hewley bodily charged the beast before it could orientate itself, one bare fist cracking the monster’s nose and probably upper jaw while the other gripped one horn and wrenched it away from finishing the job and rendering him without a left arm or the bangle he had equipped his materia on.

With a tiny bit of luck, he managed to swing his Partisan around and not lop off the SOLDIER’s head. Instead he impaled it through the Behemoth’s front paw, half-raised to swipe the burly teen in half or disembowel him with its thick claws. The extra wide head of his spear helped, cutting the heavily muscled flesh enough for the haft of his weapon then sinking into the softer ceramics lining the floor with every subsequent movement that drove it further downwards.

Rhapsodos lunged in then, using Rapier to pierce the equally heavily muscled neck and pin the whole creature against the wall. Canted enough that it couldn’t free it’s other forepaw by lifting it in the right direction, unable to retreat or push forward due to the weaponry pinning it in place.

“Well. Shit.” Scarlet volunteered as the three of them watched the monster thrash against it’s incredibly painful restraints, some shouts of confusion echoing from the stairwell as the techs-turned-riflemen shouted badly coordinated reports themselves of what ‘their Director’ had just spent all of five seconds fighting off with the SOLDIERs.

“Now what?” Demanded the half-pint redhead testily, taking a step to the side to avoid a spine-laced tail lashing at his head.

Reaching over and resetting the ‘emergency’ call button so the damaged elevator car wouldn’t leave the floor, if it could with a door missing, the weapon’s maker shrugged awkwardly. “Magic, I guess.”

“I don’t use materia, sir.” Hewley at least sounded apologetic, even if he had a massive sword strapped on his back he was apparently against using. Those sharp horns or the half-shattered jaws still snapping and snarling at them made his fists slightly less than effective, especially when you still had to account for the hind legs and tail being unrestrained and able to fight him still.

“They haven’t issued me any yet.” Came from the bitchy and incredibly annoying teen to his right.

That left his Lightning/Quadra combination.

The not-entirely-a-Behemoth monster that was only _queerly_ wrong than obviously so roared defiance in his face as Scarlet raised his bloody left hand, but the four thunderbolts that struck it’s horns or it’s face shut it up rather fast. Didn’t kill it, so he summoned up another brace of lightning bolts from the shriveled-up capacity he once had for magic.

Quadra really was worth the effort he spent getting to it. The spells might be half-powered, but four times one half was still two. For the price of one. The _only_ reason he didn’t embarrassingly keel over from the effort.

He was going to _hurt_ tomorrow.

Four full-powered Lightning spells, eight lightning bolts, to the face finally killed it. The sizzle of overcooked meat added itself to the incredibly _sour_ smell of the various dead creatures’ oddly wrong-colored bloods and whatever marshy-poisons the Malbroro-thing was leaking quietly.

Rhapsodos yanked out his Rapier from the twitching carcass, then whirled on him in an entirely overdone twirl of red leather. “ _How?”_

He had already pulled off the bloodstained bangle, and instead of answering shoved the whole thing into the teenager’s hands. “Have fun. Go hunting already.”

Scarlet had to clamber _over_ the hulking beast to reach the damaged elevator’s emergency brake lever, which was a nerve-wracking experience when it had been intent on goring him only seconds before. Once he pulled it and grimaced at the poor wretch that got into an elevator with a Behemoth, he pulled his Partisan out of the charred flesh and trudged back down the hallway to the medical point.

<<◊>>

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Scarlet inquired darkly, gripping a knee in favor of gripping his left forearm while Knife the newest Turk rookie stitched it up so the Restore Materia wouldn’t leave a massive scar. “I have _however_ many dead, four dead monsters we _all_ can clearly see _aren’t_ what they should be, and you want me to… _what?”_

“Lie.” Verdot informed him bluntly, observing him across his desk in his ‘Auditing’ Division he obviously ran to most of the company. Underground, stone walls enclosing them, and entirely too many screens lining the wall behind him made it seem more like a spy’s office than an accountant’s. “Scarlet, this won’t be good for our public image-“

“No _shit._ ” Cutting the other man off impatiently, he sank grimy and probably also bloodstained fingers into his unruly hair coming loose instead of what he _really_ wanted to do. “Lie about _what?_ ‘No, it was a figment of your imagination’ doesn’t really _work well_ when your people were _fighting_ them. Lost friends and coworkers to monsters that _shouldn’t have been there_.”

If Knife wasn’t performing amateur surgery on him, he’d be highly tempted to grab his Partisan and go impale Hojo right on the President’s damn desk. Which Veld probably knew full well and was why he had his rookie doing the work stitching him up instead of someone he wouldn’t feel bad for trampling like an actual member of the medical staff.

No one would _confirm_ the monsters had come from Hoko-hinky’s personal labs, but he didn’t really _need_ confirmation. Sephiroth had gone upwards, then the monsters stopped trying to kill people. Something up from his floors that would have the unknown territory someone could experiment on monsters?

Hojo.

“No, they shouldn’t have been. It _was_ a monster attack, we won’t be able to deny that. They were smuggled in, Scarlet. Anti-Shin-Ra terrorists. They call themselves AVALANCHE.”

“Were they? Smuggled.” Scarlet demanded darkly, already knowing full well they hadn’t been.

“Yes.” Veld _lied to his face_ , completely serious. “They were not supposed to be here.”

“A _malboro_ with extra parts _,_ a _behemoth_ that shrugged off a spear through the paw and a sword through the neck and only died with _four Lightning spells_ to the snout added on top, something that looked awfully close to a _Kalm fang with human limbs_ , _and_ a Chuse Tank with _four arms_ and _eight tongues_ with a _human head_. They were _smuggled_ into the Shin-Ra building.” He checked, just to be _absolutely_ sure the head of the Turks really wanted to go with that. “By terrorists.”

The older man sighed disgustedly and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Yes, we are _all_ aware it’s a lie. Give me _time_ to deal with this, Scarlet.”

“Will you? I don’t believe for a _second_ you _didn’t_ know these things were _in here with us_ , Verdot. If they hadn’t escaped… would we have _never_ known something like that was going on?”

Veld tapped the tips of his fingers together for an incredibly awkward moment. “That’s… very bold.”

“I’m willfully ignorant, not _stupid_.” Scarlet informed him sourly as he glared back at the man, also ignoring Knife’s slightly too tight stitching getting even jerkier. “I _know_ things are getting _cockeyed_ , Verdot. I’m usually perfectly _fine_ with you managing shit, I’m neither squeaky clean nor morally uptight enough to make your life difficult for it. Where that stops is when people who shouldn’t start _dying_ because I’m trusting you. I have _several_ now. What _the fuck_ am I supposed to tell their families?”

The older man regarded him _thoughtfully_ , which was honestly more disquieting to Scarlet than him being just serious. He was _always_ serious, thoughtful was a new and unknown feature to him. “That it was a tragedy, and Shin-Ra is working to ensure the perpetrators will pay for their loved one’s untimely death. In spades.”

“Well, that’s nice and _shiny_.” Sarcastic venom laced his tone, because he was going to use that for his own attempt would probably just be awkward as all hell and he did resent that a bit. “Some people just _really don’t_ do revenge, Verdot. They’d prefer something _not_ blood soaked. They weren’t _soldiers_ , didn’t volunteer for combat duty.”

“Then the company regrets the loss of such bright employees, and their work will still be contributed to their hands no matter who finishes it.”

“…I fucking _hate_ you somedays.”

Veld _smirked_ , as if his words were amusing and not an expression of loathing. Straightening up in his overly large office chair, the head of the Turks finally laced his fingers together just to put them intertwined on the top of his completely clear desk. “Scarlet, please lie.”

“That’s only going to work so many times until my _own_ people won’t trust me anymore.” He bitterly pointed out, well aware he had lost significant ground in the argument somewhere but not quite able to tell where.

Scarlet gave Knife, who was now not stitching him, a pointed look. She sniffed judgmentally at him but snipped the string with her arsenal of throwing knives and got up with the cleaning supplies used to ‘sterilize’ his injury. Leaving an ugly patch job in his forearm as she waltzed away, for however long it’d be until he could get his hands on a Restore Materia or the docs got a hold of him.

It’d still scar, but now it wouldn’t be a thick one.

“Terrorists.” Veld repeated for him as his rookie assassin left them alone in the older man’s office. “AVALANCHE. I can safely assure you they _were_ involved, Scarlet.”

“I _will_ get my pound of flesh, Verdot. For _all_ of them. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“Combat drills are an interesting idea, if not necessarily needed.” He continued as if he hadn’t heard him, unlacing his hands and adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt under his suspiciously clean suit jacket. “Though, I am aware more than just you and your people will be doing so. I… _do_ have a very interesting report of this oddly shaped materia now in Rhapsodos’ possession.”

“That’s nice.” He countered, disgruntled and not quite satisfied with the whole conversation enough to be willing to admit he literally forgot about it for a decade. “Are we done?”

“Scarlet.”

“You told me to lie. I’m lying. Anything else?”

There was a sigh from across that wooden desk. “Very well. Thank you for your time, Director. There will be an emergency executive board meeting at eight for further coordination between divisions of the company. Try not to forget.”

Scarlet shoved himself upright out of the ‘guest’ chair, staggering a little as a fatigue he hadn’t felt in over a decade pulled at his limbs and made him clumsy. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to shoulder his Partisan that Tseng had held for him on his way out of the third basement floor where ‘Auditing’ was formally located, and various Turks all gave him weird looks on his way to the only working elevator.

Probably because he was _still_ covered in blood, a grimy visibly exhausted weapons maker in a floor full of impeccably put together spies and special agents in business wear. He wasn’t the only one obviously armed, so he knew for a fact it wasn’t his spear.

He needed to have _words_ with _Chief_ hurdy-gurdy about the absolutely _pitiful_ four-hour response time by the Infantry, but if there was an executive meeting pending then he’d chew out the head of Public Safety then to keep everything nicely contained and not make Veld’s life even harder. Probably after getting himself chewed out by whomever was manning the medical floor.

Shuffling into the tiny cubicle that traversed entirely too many floors, Scarlet put his weapon in a corner and eyed the button panel.

Medial was… nine, or somewhere close to there. Disturbingly closer to Science and Research than he really liked to go, but given _Research_ tended to also do lab testing for various medically needed reasons he generally got over it. Generally, but a _lot_ of his mainly absent tolerances had long since dried up today.

Still about ten or possibly more floors above the not yet completed ‘street level’ and nearly twenty to _thirty_ under his own, meaning there had to have been some tinkering with the elevators to stop there more frequently than the other floors just so people being sent there didn’t bleed out or die when on their way from somewhere higher/lower.

He kind of wondered if Reeve’s trick with summoning the elevators would also work as an ‘emergency’ call button for the medical floor, but he didn’t try because it was entirely possible there were more still trickling into medical from various floors after pitching in with the cleanup efforts and he might not actually recall which floor it was correctly.

It did kind of amuse him that at every floor the elevator car stopped at the people impatiently waiting for it decided to wait even longer than spend any time in an enclosed box with him. For the first lobby level and floors three through seven, then the elevator skipped nine and shot upwards. Skipping more than thirty floors without stopping again.

Scarlet raised an eyebrow curiously, watching the number on a digital display for the floor tick upwards. Passed his own five, a couple more up to forty-nine before the elevator’s breaks kicked in to slow momentum. He snapped a hand out to prevent his spear from sliding down the wall, re-shouldering it instead of leaning it back up against the thin metal since apparently he was to get company for the trip down.

“Rhapsodos, that’s an _emergency_ call button. Not a ‘I don’t want to wait’ trick.”

“Of _course_ Director. I wouldn’t _dream_ of abusing an emergency function like that.” The smarmy kid _simpered_ at him, his own red-bladed and probably freshly cleaned Rapier against a shoulder as he joined him in the enclosed space.

“Sorry, sir.” Hewley, blessedly _respectful_ brat number two, muttered as he too edged in with a spotless Buster Sword still strapped to his back and clean hands. “I tried to stop him.”

Sephiroth had nothing to say, also didn’t have the blessed sense to leave the _third_ oversized sword also suspiciously lacking any color of blood somewhere else than dragging it along with him. The blade of the no-dachi ended up blocking the elevator’s doors, as the teen wedged himself with Scarlet between him and the other SOLDIERs.

Right next to the button panel.

“Hit medical for me, would you kid?” Pressing the callous-thick pad of his thumb against the middle of his forehead in lieu of rubbing grime and monster blood all over his face, Scarlet fruitlessly wondered how the hell he got into this mess. “There’s a prototype for a magnetic sheath waiting for testing, less _sheath_ and more ‘stick weapon here’ plates of interlocking metal armor intended to cover the spine, one of you go pick it up so I can make more.”

“That sounds useful, Director Scarlet.” Politely tried the grey-almost-purple eyed SOLDIER conversationally as the button he requested was punched in, nine _teen_ not nine, badly attempting an equally polite smile under his unimpressed glower. “I’ll pick it up when I drag Genesis to your workshop to check over his new sword.”

“…better plan on it for tomorrow, Hewley. The _moment_ I get out of medical, there’s going to be an emergency executive meeting. Then I’ll probably have to go _back_.”

Noticeably, the SOLDIERs were _also_ spotlessly put together unlike him. They also probably saw more combat than he did today, but they were _spotless_. He was well passed tired of feeling grimy, but yet he was the one who had yet to afford time to find an unclaimed shower head somewhere in the building.

“Were you not coming from medical, Director?” Sephiroth inquired, tonelessly. Possibly trying to make polite conversation in a _hilariously bad_ way.

“Auditing.”

Rhapsodos snorted in derision as the smartly-attired if slightly manic-looking secretaries of floor fifty decided to wait two passes before attempting to summon the elevator again. He was tapping the Rapier against his shoulder which made Scarlet’s already exhausted muscles twinge, as the elevator doors closed again with a disgustingly cheerful ping. “And ‘Auditing’ is code for what around here, exactly?”

“Turks. Though, to be fair, they _do_ audit things. Occasionally.”

“…how much of everything is possibly bugged, sir?” Hewley inquired slowly, solidly ignoring the other two teenagers giving him curious or strange looks.

“Don’t go paranoid, kid. I’m watched, but that’s because I’m the Director of Advanced Weaponry. If I die at the hands of terrorists or a plain kidnapping attempt, it’d be _really_ fucking embarrassing for the whole company. You three _might_ be, I don’t really know how ‘top level’ anything SOLDIER is. Furthermore, you have to realize there aren’t a whole _lot_ of Turks and they’re _supposed_ to be aimed outwards.” Scarlet shut up when the elevator dinged for floor fifty-eight, and rolled his eyes as the whole group got saluted by the ‘Second or Third’ Class SOLDIERs that also decided to wait for another round of the elevator to get on. Then he looked at each of the brats watching him in various stages of bland, grimly attentive, and wholly unimpressed. “The obvious, executive offices and practically every reception desk in the building. Less _public_ spaces and more any supposedly quiet corners. Some ends of hallways, the whole staircase, this elevator and the other one, probably the closets though I haven’t inspected one to see if so yet. But then you need to account for _processing_ that data, and exactly how much of it would be _inane_ instead of interesting. They’ve got analysts, sure. Shit slips through, because they’re only human too. They also have to _justify_ themselves to anyone looking at the various departments trying to find them, by actually doing the work they’re hiding under.”

No one wanted to get on from the top ten floors apparently, so they hit fifty-nine and the elevator switched to going down surprisingly rapidly. Skipping the first three floors easily enough before opening on fifty-five. There was an equally ragged janitorial team who took one look at Scarlet’s grimy form and pristine company, grimaced between themselves, and one guy wearily waved the group on as they prepared to wait even longer to get off that floor with their cleaning carts.

Sephiroth had already been pressing the ‘close doors’ button, and he was mostly hidden from view in his corner.

“That is… significantly less disturbing than I thought, Director.” Hewley admitted quietly as the elevator jerked downwards again, even if he was clean and tidy he also now looked a pinch like he bitterly regretted something important. “Though it is unfortunate to hear you are under close surveillance.”

“I hadn’t fought anything before today in close to a decade, Hewley. It’s _prudent_ , I’m not exactly the most perceptive in here. And you know what? That’s fucking _inspiring._ ” All three SOLIDERs gave him varying looks for that, and he shrugged. “There’s people in this fucking city that _never_ touched a weapon. Don’t have to, weren’t given one at age ten and told to join the village patrols so they’d all live through the night. They can do whatever the hell they want, not worrying about if a swarm of monsters will overrun their home or grieve over a bad patrol that ripped apart their best friend or lover in front of their faces. No, Shin-Ra’s not _perfect_. It’s pretty damn _clunky_ actually, too much of one thing over another to be anything but a cooperation focused more on the bottom line than on the lives that look to it. That’s fine, it’ll probably get fixed eventually due to either outside or internal pressures to _correct_ what’s wrong. And that’ll only happen if we _survive,_ so survive we will.”

Scarlet _was lying_ through his damn teeth, and it really disgusted him to do it at all much less to these three specific teenagers. Shin-Ra would _end_ a complete shitshow, but the company _did_ do things completely by accident against its own intentions that were honestly okay.

A few things. Very few.

Cloud Strife, basically. Engineered science project of Hojo’s that would end up the main instigator of the company’s downfall even half out of his own head due to the fuckery and against the best attempts of what would remain of the Turks. Zackary Fair, the _only_ actual hero of this nightmare and his tragically doomed lady love Aerith. Tuesti being in the right place to form up the splintered remains of the Shin-Ra Electric Company into whatever he’d have afterwards, even if right now the younger man was less respected than he should be. Hundreds of other people that _trusted_ Shin-Ra’s lies, then tried to make the best of their lot despite it once they realized how _shitty_ the whole company was.

However… he had told Veld he’d lie. Lie he would, because Scarlet was still mostly a half-dead with exhaustion and already resigned to ‘helping’ either with or without his own permission being sought for it.

He hadn’t objected at the time, and he was in it to his eyeballs now.

“Hewley, do me a favor.”

“Sir?”

“Take this back up to forty-five. Tanis will take care of it.” Handing over his Partisan to the obliging SOLDIER, because he _really should’ve_ gotten the weapon cleaned up before this and he honestly didn’t trust himself to carry it any further without dropping it like a green Infantry recruit, Scarlet snapped his fingers in front of Rhapsodos’ nose once his hand was free. “The Lightning Materia, kid.”

“Not the bangle or the other one, sir?” Since he popped out the green ball of crystalized mako from the shiny clean mythril and handed it over anyway, he ignored the heavily muscled SOLDIER’s hissed demand for his little friend to show respect in favor of putting the materia in a pocket.

“Quadra’s mine, I just forgot I had it for… a decade. Keep it.” Veld was _never_ going to let him forget that, now. “But the Magic Materia was pulled from the armory, so it isn’t mine to give. The bangle was slotted for experimentation, I’ve got a few so help yourself if you want.”

Rhapsodos eyed the pyramid-shaped materia curiously, then glanced sideways at him. “What else is it good for?”

“Fuck if I know.” Scarlet, admittedly grumpily, dismissed as they finally reached nineteen after a suspiciously long stint without the elevator being summoned to another floor and the doors opened with another disgustingly cheerful ‘ding’. “Figure it out yourself, Rhapsodos.”

Giving a nod to Sephiroth, who was pressing the ‘hold open’ button even if it wasn’t necessary, he went to get yelled at for not immediately reporting himself to the docs after getting gored in the arm.


	4. Chapter 4

The fourth thing… never really stopped happening.

Sephiroth was very much a child brought up in a sterilized laboratory setting. Competent at the things he had been exposed to and taught, _completely clueless_ when things went off any scripted event or something _other_ than perfect skills was expected of him.

Meaning, he got overwhelmed entirely too easily for a brat that could wage pitched battle with hundreds and _win_ at age fifteen. He could argue logic circles around veteran statesmen and generals alike, couldn’t stand two kids his own age trying to ‘befriend’ him even if he _wanted_ a friend like the two had in each other.

Scarlet honestly didn’t know if Sephiroth even wanted a friend. Bit hard to tell when the kid impersonated a statue so often. Within a few weeks the teenager had to have gotten the idea of what was going on, he was easily smart enough to have figured it out on his own or had gathered the information being freely discussed around him to come to a conclusion, but _applying_ that information in a sphere of human life he was unexperienced in apparently stumped him.

Instead of speaking up about his pitiful social tolerances or letting Hewley know he was uncomfortable with whatever the hell was coming out of Rhapsodos’ mouth, the silver-haired SOLDIER just up and disappeared when you weren’t looking.

For whatever reason he had been pulled back to Midgar for, Sephiroth was stuck with the other SOLDIERs around his age. Half because they were the _only_ SOLDIERs that could maybe match him in a spar so they couldn’t fight the lower Thirds or Seconds if they wished to avoid embarrassing the men or causing crippling injuries, half due to it not just being Scarlet who was uncomfortable with their young ages.

Mostly it wasn’t _his_ fault the weirdness was starting to multiply, it was mainly due to Genesis Rhapsodos’ intents to forcibly _befriend him_ whether Sephiroth liked it or not. _Especially_ if not, as his fellow redhead had inherited the temper of one fully no matter the more orange-ish hair.

 _Teenagers_. Fuck knew he was awfully glad to be out of that developmental range when mood swings were normal and emotional upheavals felt like the literal end of the world instead of… just shit that happened.

The whole of Shin-Ra’s Headquarters ended up witnessing a very odd bromance courtship in the happening, and every awkward random corner Sephiroth wedged himself into when he was trying to escape it merely fueled the gossip.

It kind of would’ve helped the kid better if he hadn’t methodically gone through the whole building floor by floor trying to find someplace to hide, or if he didn’t look a bit like a flawless china doll in complexion that all the matronly or otherwise women in the tower cooed and twittered over in his wake.

As he knew it really wasn’t as funny as most people found it, Sephiroth was probably genuinely confused and half-paralyzed by entirely too many possible wrong choices to ruin the first actual personally supportive relationship he might never get a chance for again, Scarlet merely huffed when he turned around and there was the silver-haired brat lurking in the middle of the room behind him.

In _his_ workshop, without any sound betraying his arrival.

Kid was more a ninja than any Wutai native _or_ Turk, or Turk Wutai natives.

“This room is _technically_ off-limits to all personnel unless I give them permission to be in here.”

“I am aware of that, sir.” The teenager informed him robotically, arms crossed tightly behind his back and probably bracing himself for yet another lecture of ‘off limits means _get out’_.

Scarlet eyed him in exasperation, but he _did_ have other things to do so leaving his workshop for the kid to adjust his nerves in wouldn’t delay anything. “Don’t _break_ anything. And if you do, fix it. There’s manuals for just about everything in here.”

Of course, half the things in his workshop were _prototypes_ that might or might not work yet. He had faith Sephiroth would figure something out, even if there wasn’t anything he could use to help him written down.

The teenager kept glowing green eyes solidly on the wall, even once Scarlet passed him.

There _had been_ a phone in here, somewhere. He promptly buried it because it wasn’t like he used it for shit, but there _was_ one. Under three badly charred leather aprons, two old welder’s gloves full of more holes, and three forgotten sets of metal clamps that would’ve smashed his toes if he hadn’t been wearing steel-capped boots.

He punched the dusty number two button, tucking the receiver up between his chin and shoulder as he got a better grip on the probably outdated piece of crap. “Tell Hewley and Rhapsodos that brat number three went to the armory when they show up, Rache.”

“ _Yes sir?”_

Hanging up, then immediately pulling the phone up to his ear again he punched the three button. “Mark, tell the SOLDIERs looking for Sephiroth that he went to the testing workshop.”

A significantly less confused acknowledgement was barely uttered before he hung up again and repeated the whole effort only with the number one button getting punched.

“Tanis, tell the SOLDIER brats their fellow went down to basement seventeen. _After_ their two clipboards each.”

“ _Sure thing, Director.”_

The code to get out of his Division to any of the other floors was a bit more convoluted than just reaching the other workshops he controlled, and took him a couple seconds of blind staring at a featureless metal wall himself before he recalled it. “Director Tuesti, I need a favor.”

“ _Ah… um… okay?”_

“Tell Hewley and Rhapsodos you sent SOLDIER Sephiroth up to the cafeteria.”

There was a hastily cut off snicker, and Reeve pretended he didn’t do any such thing by clearing his throat noisily which echoed in the basement level they were preparing to pump mako into. “ _Of course, Director Scarlet._ Barely _a favor, that. By the way, we should be spot on for the equipment proofing attempts next week._ ”

“Great, see you then.” Forcing himself to listen to the other Director’s very cheerful goodbye without hanging up on him was kind of really annoying, but he was trying to be better about being a grumpy kind of asshole barely functioning on no sleep whatsoever.

The sleep thing was kind of out of his hands, but he could at least try on the other one.

Hanging up once the other man did, he set the phone’s receiver back in its uncovered cradle. Scarlet then left it and the teenager still impersonating a statue in his workshop alone together. “Go to the cafeteria once you’re settled, Sephiroth.”

Rache, three weeks from resigning in protest about the flimsy cover story over what killed her niece on her first day of work, gave him a less than impressed raised eyebrow from across the workshop. He barely managed a shrug after avoiding her eye, still _incredibly_ guilty about his part in covering up the real reason behind the girl’s death.

* * *

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“Director Scarlet!” Reeve Tuesti _hissed_ at him, going so far as adding an attempt at a stern look on top. “I don’t mind young Sephiroth’s attendance. The more the merrier, in my opinion.”

“He’s not _here_ for us, he’s _here_ to escape the other two.” Scarlet hissed back, giving the silver-haired young SOLDIER standing statue-still again a respectful measure and a half away from ‘their’ table in the Shin-Ra Corporate Archives a short glare. “There’s _nowhere_ to hide up here, brat. Either pick up a book and pretend you’re working or fuck off down to forty-five. Tanis can hide you again, if you want.”

The head of Urban Development gave him a _disappointed_ stare, then turned a much more pleasant one on the SOLDIER blankly staring at them attentively. “You can join my staff two floors up, young Sephiroth. With the upcoming tests, my workers are getting a bit ragged running messages from their offices down to basement level seventeen and Scarlet’s mechanics. We would greatly appreciate the help.”

Biting his tongue before he snapped at the genially natured man, he rolled his head back to stare straight on back at the poor guy staring at the other Director. “I will not be offended if you chose to pick Director Tuesti’s offer over my own. Either one will net you the same result.”

“…what?” Reeve winced when Scarlet kicked him under the table to get him to shut up.

“There _is no_ wrong answer, _right_ Director Tuesti?”

“Of course not?”

Sephiroth very obviously did _not_ believe Reeve, much to the man’s obvious confusion as to why the SOLDIER was studying him like a prospective opponent.

“Forty-five. Tell Tanis Director Scarlet sent you.” Kicking the other man again, half to keep him quiet and half because Scarlet was that kind of an asshole, he attempted and probably mostly succeeded in keeping his opinion off his face because the teenager finally gave a short nod.

It wasn’t acceptance, it was just an acknowledgement of words addressed to him. So, a slightly different intent today.

Pulling himself fully upright in his entirely too hard Archive seat, without sitting on his own damn hair and causing himself a wholly new headache, he first checked to see if the SOLDIER had left yet or not. Like usual, Sephiroth had completely disappeared when he distracted Reeve with his massive length of eye-catching hair… but if that meant the kid was elsewhere or not was still up in the air.

At least he was out of sight, which was probably good enough. “ _Director_ Tuesti, do _not_ give him more than two choices. At least until he’s more… settled. Choices, yeah. No more than two. An option to do it himself, or whatever help. At least for now.”

Reeve looked at him, _exactly_ like a kicked puppy. Which, yeah, he _had_ kicked the other man but it had been for a good cause. “Why?”

“I’m not… that’s not _my_ place. If he tells you or not, it’s up to him.” Rubbing at a temple, he grabbed the ‘how much mako will expand under heat’ equation to work into the hard limits of the hoses they were going to use several floors underground to pump mako in or out in case of emergency containment breeches. “What I _will_ say, is exactly what I already did. Let him figure out how to express his opinion first.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“Obviously.” It wasn’t really his fault, Reeve had a mother and still fucking _lived_ with the old lady. In Midgar. Scarlet had… a whole other lifetime of a perfectly ‘normal’ upbringing then this life of being an ‘orphan’ himself to be fully aware of the differences, and a ton of extra information on child abuse and the various horrible ways kids could get mistreated to pull from. “He’s fifteen, Reeve. He’s been a SOLDIER for a couple years now. Fuck knows the Infantry focuses more on beating discipline into their recruits more than allowing them all the personal freedom a teenager needs to figure themselves out.”

“But… that means he should’ve… _thirteen? Twelve?”_

“…yep.”

The dark-haired man frowned at him under his neatly trimmed facial hair. “You don’t sound remotely concerned, Scarlet.”

“ _I_ was ten. For Mideel’s village patrols and not a military outfit, admittedly. But it’s not an _unusual_ age… outside of the city.” The worst thing they could do right now would be making Sephiroth think of his probably not-optional military service as something he shouldn’t have done, mostly due to the teenager seemingly not having much personality beyond ‘SOLDIER’. As Scarlet suspected the brat was still ninja-ing around rather than pulling his disappearing act in truth, he’d play up to the expectations of a Mideel native instead of a man that knew full well what PTSD was and how bad it could get. “You smother him in concerned care, Reeve, he’ll pop smoke again and avoid you too. It’s why he keeps dodging the other two, then going back the very next day until it happens again. They give him way too many choices, and he can’t figure out what he wants in ‘socially acceptable’ measures of time before they might get exasperated with him. But he _wants_ the companionship, or knows enough to be interested in getting it, so the cycle repeats.”

“One or two options?”

“Lets him have his choices for help, enough time to think the situation over and apply the suggestion, _and_ gets him used to expressing a preference. Slowly, so _he’s_ in charge of it. He comes to me, I arrange an escape for him. That’s _my_ role for him, what he’s picked as what he needs the most. It’s why he’s visited me before, and probably will visit more later.”

The man threaded fingers through his short beard, suspiciously eyeing him. “Then why demand a reason for his presence when we realized he was here?”

“Couple reasons. To see if he could express why in words and not implications, because I’m an asshole and if I changed it just for him he’d get uncomfortable about ‘special treatment’ when he notes the discrepancy, and so he’s fully aware I see him and I’m not more pissed off than he can tolerate.”

Reeve practically all but _pouted_ , but then again the other man was genuinely nicer and wholesome like that. “I suppose offering my assistance will not be accepted?”

“Wait until he approaches you first.” Abused children did _not_ trust easily, and losing that trust even once meant the kid would be completely done with you. Even with abused teenagers who had more tactical/military genius than the whole Infantry put together and a frightfully high intelligence. “Not just when you’re with me, when you’re the only authority figure he’ll have to deal with. That’s… his version of requesting help.”

Sephiroth would be able to control both the risk and the method of escape that way, test the new situation and see if it would fit his needs or if the other person would prove to be as useless as all the rest so far. Then move on to the next, if nothing about the response aided him in any way. Rinse, repeat, try the next one. On, and on, and on, and on again.

“…he’s done that to half the building already.”

“Yep.” Socially retarded silver-haired _brat_ couldn’t fucking ask, either because he didn’t want to admit to a ‘weakness’ in not being able to figure it out or because he honestly didn’t know how, therefore others confused his intents with their own expectations for him.

Then he found the Director of the Advanced Weaponry Division, who had _no_ compulsions against lying or letting people come to the slightly incorrect but usable answer themselves. If it was what the kid wanted or not was still a question, but the teenager at least now had the _time_ to figure it out himself.

“I’m proud to call you a friend, Scarlet. You’re a good man.”

Scarlet put down the equations, eyeing the other man warily. “No, I’m just not _that_ much of an asshole. I make _weapons_ for a living, Reeve. Which are currently being used to _kill people_ , rather than monsters.”

“I’m building a plated city that will choke out all the life in my hometown and condemn the former residents that cannot escape to life in a slum, Scarlet.” Countered the head of Urban Development pointedly, still bizarrely cheerful for whatever insane reason. “And, if this works, we’ll add ‘makes materia’ to that list of your life’s work. Which could equally be Heal or Restore as much as they could be Fire, Ice, or Earth.”

“I now live in those to-be slums.”

“Really? Where?”

“Under where Sector Seven’s supposed to go.” The Turks already knew where he lived, the un-existing blueprints exactly down to probably stealing his house keys and making themselves a copy for reasons. Scarlet was not particularly sociable enough to tell other people his address.

“Were _you_ the one that bought Mistress Abel’s old family house?” Reeve pressed anyway, because he was a cheerfully nosy man with good intentions once given half a reason to be. “That was _awfully_ kind of you, Scarlet.”

“Shut up and leave me to my delusions of being an asshole in peace.”

Coughing sharply to badly conceal a snigger at his expense, he raked together their paperwork into a semi-neat pile as he got to his feet. “I don’t think we have much more to get through that hasn’t already been calculated out to exacting degrees. I suppose tomorrow’s test of the pipes is entirely approved on my side.”

Scarlet handed him the sheet of equations he had been holding, to join the paperwork the other man had taken upon himself to file away for the project. “I’m satisfied with the redundancies already in place, so I’ll see you down there tomorrow morning.”

“Of course.”

He waited instead of getting up himself, stacking the text on fluid dynamics on top of the machinist’s handbook of metal types and tolerances to be put away in a few more minutes.

“That was not correct.”

“No, but it was couched in terms Director Tuesti would accept without fussing over either of us.” Scarlet informed Sephiroth without turning around, amused to be vindicated in his suspicions without any hint of the teenager’s continuing presence being apparent. “He’s got different expectations, it’s not _his_ fault any more than it’s ours for having a completely different one. But, just because his reality is different than yours or mine doesn’t mean he’s incorrect. Just that reality sucks ass sometimes.”

“Everything above floor sixty is restricted to select company personnel or escorted civilians of proper means to afford a ‘tour’.” The teenaged SOLDIER reminded him pointedly as he smoothly slid into his sight from behind the very reading-nook desk he had been working at. “Neither Hewley nor Rhapsodos are part of either grouping.”

“You _could’ve_ explained your reasonings to Reeve, I didn’t stop you.”

“Why?”

Sephiroth could’ve meant quite a few things with his question, Scarlet took a moderately educated stab in the dark for what the kid was really asking. “Depressingly, I’ve got a Turk for a best friend. Somehow. You wanted an introduction, didn’t you?”

Slightly glowing green eyes inspected him closely, then shockingly the teenager nodded slowly. “Indeed. You manipulated him, even if he expressed kinship with you. Because you are ‘an asshole’.”

“He’ll forgive me.” Clinically spoken or not, hearing Sephiroth swear was absolutely _adorable_. More like a kid testing out the fit of a parent’s accessory or something equally as disgustingly child-trying-to-be-adult like. “Director Tuesti is a genuinely _nice_ person. It’s _bizarre_ to interact with someone who’s so different than I am, Sephiroth. I gave his possible assistance some structure and limitations for you, without needing _you_ to deal with the man’s concerns. Yet.”

“…yet.”

“One fight at a time, SOLDIER.”

That fitted the teenager’s expectations better than everything else seemingly did, his keenly fine-tuned intelligence apparently agreeing with the assessment then slotting it away in a supposedly ‘proper’ place for later. He also didn’t fuck off, to either take the advantage Scarlet got him with Reeve nor wander off to whatever aim he might have tonight.

He waited more, impatiently but he _was_ an asshole.

“You ‘couched’ terms for myself as well.” Sephiroth tried after a few too many moments of silence, a _lot_ more hesitant than the rest of his various inquiries even if that was only identifiable by how _quiet_ the kid suddenly became. “Even if I am fully aware of your habit in doing so.”

“Your reality is not my reality.”

“And neither are incorrect.”

“And neither can be entirely true for all, even those with you experiencing a new reality, either. They can’t _replace_ each other, because without the underlying causes and reasons it’s no longer a reality. Reality of life in Midgar does not match the reality of life in Mideel, just as Reeve’s reality of being _safe_ growing up does not match _your_ reality of being a ‘SOLDIER’ at your age.”

“…or your reality of being trained to defend a village at a specific age does not match my reality.”

“Differences. Some people like exploring differences, either in different places or in other people, some people can be disquieted by the same and try to reject those differences. Some hold up _their_ differences as what _should be_ , others will reject or accept it for the same or slightly varying reasons of their own. Guessing which one it’ll be when revealing the truths of _your_ reality to another is never a sure thing. There’s a couple patterns you can guess from, but they’re still guesses.”

Sephiroth suddenly eyed him suspiciously. “You appreciate Director Tuesti’s differences enough to allow him liberty with you even if it makes you uncomfortable, his claim of kinship not refuted, yet you dismiss his reality.”

“In _this_ application. I know full well, despite the fact Reeve’s got a different opinion on the subject and that it doesn’t apply to you nor I, that just _because_ it’s different doesn’t make it wrong or ‘not applicable’ for everyone. Actually, I _would like_ to see his reality take over ours and become the true reality for everyone. Not a replacement, a _succession_ from changing the underlying reasons to fit it better than what is.”

“…there are those in this city who will never touch a weapon, nor need to defend themselves.”

“Because Midgar has the Public Safety Department, and a standing military. Now you and the other SOLDIERs. Mideel just has whomever is of age to pick up a weapon to fight off monsters hunting them. That _is_ reality, and it _can_ change for better or for worse. But it is what it is.”

He puzzled that over with a faint frown.

Scarlet needed a glass of water, or something significantly more alcoholic. He was a _weapons maker_ , not the fucking _guidance counselor_ for bratty SOLDIERs. Until Sephiroth branched out, and found more to poke and shake answers or opinions he wanted out of, he’d _do_ it… but no one ever said he had to do it gracefully.

Or sober.

He didn’t _normally_ drink himself unconscious, because then he wouldn’t _wake up_ when the nightmares started. It sounded to him like the _perfect_ time to try again, not.

Giving life-advice/manipulation tips to the underaged Scourge of the Planet and JENOVA’s ideal son.

What a fucking _life_ he had, and he couldn’t even drown his sorrows like a normal person.

“AVALANCHE has an idea for a reality without Shin-Ra or Mako Reactors, and probably my messy death so they can dance on my grave. _I’d_ like to stay alive, make the tools people use to protect themselves, and maybe get a good night’s rest one of these days. President Shin-Ra has an idea for a reality where his company controls the entire Planet, so that’s what he does. Wutai has a different ideal reality where Shin-Ra doesn’t build Reactors in their country, and is also fighting to see it come true. All of us Directors have varying opinions on what _should be_ reality, sometimes we don’t get along as our ideas clash and sometimes we work together. Not all of these ideal realities can be true, and equally not all realities are going to be what another wants. Might doesn’t always make right, just because you _can_ is not necessarily why you _should_ , and cooperation is a hell of a lot better than doing it your way and damning the consequences because then _others_ will help you defend your ideal reality.”

“…what if no one agrees on how you perceive reality should be?”

“Then take another look. They might just be a little _shit_ , objecting because they can. But, they also might see something you don’t because you _want_ reality to be one way. The only way to figure that out is to take a good look at _what_ they see as reality, because like with AVALANCHE and their opinion on my continued good health… there might be a point but there’s enough people that would like otherwise I’m confident in denying them that reality.”

Sephiroth eyed him skeptically now, slowly taking a couple steps backwards to ‘give’ Scarlet his space back and indicate he was more or less done with the conversation.

“I don’t know what reason you come to me for, SOLDIER. Until you _tell_ me, all I can do is guess. _Usually_ people _want things_ when they talk to me, a weapon or to have their opinions validated by agreement or because they need me to do something for them. If that’s not your intention, then you’ll need to change my admittedly assumed guess of your reality.”

“That is not… entirely incorrect.” Unhelpfully opinioned the younger man who wouldn’t dismiss himself to do whatever the hell he was up to until Scarlet left him alone first.

“But it’s not right. And the longer you allow me to continue with an ‘not entirely incorrect’ assumption of your reality, the more mistakes I might make.” Getting up with the various texts he and Reeve had made use of to check over everything before physically attempting something with highly poisonous fluids under pressure, he almost moved to the shelves circling around the Corporate Archive’s center study nook to put them away.

Almost, because Sephiroth held out a hand to take them from him.

Startled, Scarlet handed them over automatically.

Then the status quo immediately returned, because the SOLDIER stared at him until he collected his wits together and left him to it.

Well. The teenager _was_ frightfully intelligent. He didn’t know _what_ prompted Sephiroth to start questioning him, or why now he wanted to have what probably amounted to a ‘casual’ conversation that honestly was a lot more like an interrogation than a chat, but very obviously he was applying _something_.

Given that slight hiccup before actually committing to questioning him… Scarlet no longer thought he was all that off on just how Sephiroth had been raised. The details, maybe.

That sudden switch to accusing was also interesting. 

Palming his face in exasperation, before his brain tried to overwork itself _assuming_ shit when he knew full well the reality would be even _more_ grotesque, he sightlessly hit the elevator call button.

If there was just _a_ way to murder Hojo, Scarlet would take it. It was getting to the point he really didn’t _care_ if it was suicide or not, but after the complete mess of the creepy scientist almost defecting to AVALANCHE he was now under twenty-four hour surveillance and he’d never get close enough.

 _Especially_ since Veld knew full well Scarlet was looking for an opening.


	5. Chapter 5

Then he gave up trying to keep count, because Sephiroth hadn’t deemed fit to stop surprising him with interrogations/questions/trying to twist his words back on him. After a while he dragged the other two along to witness his ‘social development’ after Genesis Rhapsodos declared him a ‘incompetent smartass, but yes we’re friends you _idiot’._

“Could you _maybe_ have gotten a clue in a _week_ or two?” Scarlet griped, mainly to himself since _Reeve_ decided to ‘encourage’ the SOLDIERs’ _obvious_ interest in their joint Division project.

Spoiler alert, they weren’t _interested._ They were _bored_.

“ _Legend shall speak of sacrifice at world's end. The wind sails over the water's surface. Quietly, but surely._ ”

“Director Scarlet _does_ have quite the depth to him, doesn’t he?” Tuesti enthused like the damn traitor he was, wandering back to the somewhat raggedly staggered group with a bounce to his step even in unfamiliar steel-toe boots.

“I will fucking _strangle_ you both with my own damn hair.”

“Inventive, if unhygienic.” Sephiroth observed with amused if deadly satisfaction, probably as he wasn’t the sole focus of Rhapsodos’ LOVELESS obsession anymore.

“He has enough to do both at the same time.” Hewley chipped in brightly much to the silver-haired SOLDIER’s tiny show of surprise, the smirk on his face not even dented when he glared at the lot of them over a shoulder. “It might just work.”

“My own is nearly as long, if it is an acceptable murder weapon perhaps you should not stand so close then?”

Giving a mirthless and sarcastic bark of laughter, the teenage redhead rolled off the table full of computer equipment meant to control the pressure the pumps would work at more than his seat. “Discussing the details of my grisly murder with such cavalier attitude, Angeal? Sephiroth? I thought-“

“Get behind the yellow line and _stay there_.” Scarlet interrupted that gambit for attention shortly, because they were all down here for a _reason_ aside annoying the shit out of him.

Next month couldn’t come fast enough, all three of the SOLDIERs would be getting deployed to Wutai for the war. Not that he really _liked_ that they were already the backbone of the Shin-Ra offensive, but it was mostly their choice to volunteer.

Mostly.

“Might I enquire as to why death threats are considered a form of ‘building brotherhood’?” Sephiroth inquired pleasantly of the other two as they joined Hewley already leaning against the wall. “I understand they are used as such, just… the reasoning seems less than clear.”

“Black humor.” He absently offered for the teens to start in on while scanning through his paperwork again. “Reeve, heat or pressure?”

“Heat, I suspect it will show more results than pressure.” Accepting those papers to attach to his clipboard, the slightly younger head of a Shin-Ra company department glanced backwards at the teenagers currently debating the merits of death threats and suggestions of bodily harm towards one another versus the difference between their use among friends and those they didn’t know suggesting the same. “Hard to believe just a few weeks ago he barely talked to anyone.”

“He can probably hear you.” He really needed to get on making that communication device idea for only SOLDIERs, but one thing at a time. “All he needed was the right vocabulary to fit the situation, then to refine the definition of that vocabulary enough to trust it.”

“You do good work, Scarlet.”

“…I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that or imply I had any real influence on what’s going on behind us, and meant that more in the ‘work’ before us. It was all his deliberate choice, anyway.” He drawled sarcastically, absently tapping the edge of his clipboard against the outside of his right thigh before cupping a hand in front of his mouth. “ _FINAL CHECKS, PEOPLE!_ The _lives_ of those around you _rely_ on it!”

All the technicians beyond the little yellow line painted on the metal floor immediately bent to checking over every fitting and bolt, regardless if they were from Weapon Development or Urban Development. The few that didn’t have room to help with instead helped each other muscle the sheets of bulletproof glass in place to shield the ‘peanut gallery’ behind the red ‘technicians’ and yellow ‘observer’ lines.

“Fifteen minutes until the President will be here.” Tuesti informed him, markedly more serious now.

“Might as well start. They’ll take a few to get up to specs, and I’d rather have something to show for this instead of having it blow up in my face.”

“Good luck, Scarlet.”

“Luck? I’ve got _math_ , Reeve.” He shook the offered hand anyway, because they were all only human and if this blew up… one to several and maybe even all of them might just die in a horribly gruesome fashion. “But sure, good luck.”

The right side of basement seventeen where the Director of Urban Development went off to held a massive glass tank with mythril fittings, a pure tungsten heating coil waiting inside. It would only be filled halfway, to allow for the mako to expand or possibly boil safely, but the main risk on that side would be containment failure of the borosilicate glass. Which would melt long before the tungsten could, though there were no plans to heat the mako _that_ high.

The left side of the basement level he would be watching was significantly trickier, and they hadn’t used a _scrap_ of glass in building it. Metal pipes painted a flat black, mythril or better alloys depending on the pressures needing to be withstood in certain places, all fed into a chunk of a hollowed adamantium shell sitting half _into_ the floor. There were pressure gages everywhere to compensate for the lack of visuals, and he might know the pumps were the weakest point and they built in failsafe valves _everywhere_ … but the attempt _was_ to cram as much mako in the same square inch as could possibly be forced.

If both experiments failed to produce anything, there was a second adamantium tank built into the far wall. It was really a ‘emergency release’ tank, built to withstand both the heat and the pressure as they tried to negate the heat and return the mako back into the Reactor systems, but if nothing went wrong with the either or experiments then they’d try combining heated mako and whatever would be left of the ‘density’ project to see if the heat one required more volume.

If _that_ didn’t work, they’d go back to the drawing board to try and squeeze out more heat and pressure somehow.

It was _possible_ to make materia, Scarlet just didn’t know _how_ yet.

“…they both _aren’t_ on the same circuit, or the emergency release lines aren’t connected anywhere but the back-wall tank. Right?”

“Shut up, Director. That’s a _rookie_ mistake.” Rache, working the monitoring system on her last day of being a Shin-Ra employee, snippily informed him as all the pipes got flushed with water in the pre-experimental phase of ‘let’s check for non-obvious leaks before we run poisonous Lifestream through here’.

“You’re still going to Junon after this, Rache?”

“After I stop off in Kalm to see some family, yeah.” She allowed for lowly, while she still hadn’t forgiven him for lying about the reason for her niece’s death to her face she at least had become aware it hadn’t really been his choice. “I’ll open a weapon’s shop or something. If you weren’t such a miserable workaholic, Director, I might even invite you to see me one of these days.”

“Err…”

“Yeah. Let’s just assume I sent an invitation, you responded politely without showing up, and go on with our lives from there. Sir.”

That honestly worked for him. “Sure.”

Turning slightly, Rache gave him a pointed look for half a second before going back to monitoring her readout. “You’re as dense as a brick, Director.”

“I’m not _that_ stupid. I’m just… a miserable workaholic.”

“Miserable is quite right, sir.”

Scarlet sighed heavily and rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassingly aware that all three SOLDIERs could _likely hear them_. “You’d kill me within a week, Rache.”

“But what a way to go.” Not quite as snippy anymore, the Kalm native started ignoring him personally in favor of her work. “All sensors are giving a green light, Director. There’s nothing obstructing any of the pipes.”

“Tanis.”

“No visible leaks or unexplainable puddles on your equipment, Director. You’re also clear from over here.”

“…there’s _explainable_ puddles?”

The Corel native nodded thoughtfully, standing by at the ‘emergency release’ tank with his team of the stronger techs in their Division and having a better view of things from his angle than he did on his own. “Condensation off the walls and pipes. The soap we used to check the fittings didn’t even foam up. We checked that twice, sir. Yesterday _and_ today.”

Fair enough. “Reeve?”

“Ready over here.”

“Start the pumps, then.”

The unholy _clank_ from deep below their feet that damn near made him jump out of his skin was the ‘main’ industrial pump turning on, the one that would just pull mako from the Zero Reactor for both experiments. The altered pumps that Rache had tinkered with to draw from the industrial pump’s outtake should’ve been and were silent, as the first set of gages started registering fluid passing through the various pipes they were hooked to without any audible sign.

That wasn’t the only sign the poisonous substance was being pulled on, as Reeve’s side of the room lit up with a multi-colored if still mainly green-hued light as mako spilled into his tank fully visible and freely moving up to the containing glass.

Tanis adjusted himself to go back to gripping the main pressure release valve with his team, all four of them primed and ready for the _moment_ someone might even remotely spot a problem with the density check test. There was another team waiting on the slightest signal from the Director of Urban Development, but as containment failure was more ‘melting’ than ‘release the pressure before it bursts’ type they were even further out of the way on a balcony mounted halfway up the walls to reach their failsafe valve.

Scarlet had the unenviable job of being part of those watching painted pipes and fittings, which were already dimly reflecting the light from the mako behind them. However, they only had so long to draw mako out of the Zero Reactor’s intake before it would start to affect the power generation and not one of them could estimate exactly how much mako they’d need for the density check.

‘In order to reduce complications’ his _ass_ , Hoko-hinky was upset he had flatly denied his request to observe. Veld had refused to interfere, due to Scarlet being deemed an incredibly determined risk if allowed anywhere _near_ the scientist. With the President interested in the results of the testing the asshole Professor couldn’t _refuse_ to green-light the experiments, but he could damn well try to sabotage them then ‘do it right’ later to be a worse asshole than Scarlet.

He hoped the creepy git _choked_ on the envy that his ‘perfect SOLDIER’ got to observe and he didn’t.

…that might’ve been _why_ Sephiroth had been so dangerously amused all morning, now that he thought about it.

He vaguely registered the bulkhead doors somewhere to his back-left hissing open and a few more people joined the ‘observing’ group, but as Rache announced the pipe gages had slid into the yellow zone of moderate pressures he had better things to do than look and see who it was.

The silence as the pressure and heat mounted didn’t really help anyone’s nerves much less his, aside the background noise of those who couldn’t shut up back there. They had to listen to the pipes strain under the pressure of containing more and more mako, in hopes of catching even a split second of warning for Tanis’ team to open their valve. If there weren’t any sharp pinging noises as the bolts sheared, or the more percussive noise of a pipe bursting a seam and spilling, Scarlet would live with a low mummer.

“Anything?” Even if he tried to keep his tone low enough not to startle his team warily watching metal strain every bit of leeway it might have, Rache still jumped in her rolling office chair slightly.

“…no sir. We’ll have to open the tank to check, there’s nothing ‘hard’ registering on the sensors.”

“Well… we’re not done yet.”

“Yes, sir. Approximately two more minutes to estimated containment failure.”

Scarlet nodded slowly, even if she was facing the same direction he was and couldn’t see it. “Give me a warning when we’re within thirty seconds to any possible bursting.”

“I’ll try.”

That would literally have to be good enough, since this was both a test of the equipment as much as it was an experiment to see what the hell would happen. “Reeve?”

“We’ve… got nothing materia-wise. A few unexpected details came up, heated mako past its natural state is apparently denser than we theorized from observations on the Reactors. Once past a certain point, that is, and we’re halfway to the estimated containment failure temperature already.”

Shit. Scarlet wracked his mind for the specs on the fittings intended to drain the heated mako tank, not entirely sure if it was engineered to handle _heavier_ mako than expected. Why the hell did it get _denser_ if it was heated?

Most things got lighter or spread out with the extra energy. It wasn’t a physics equation, then.

“…drain them, then?”

“I really think we should.”

“Right, Tanis!”

Both teams hauled away on their oversized spigots not just his, but a cracking _shattering_ noise coming from deep within the ‘emergency release’ tank intended to equalize the mako back to a ‘normal’ state had everyone jumping away from it. Then both teams _bolted_ for the far wall, because whatever reaction the third tank was trying to contain was _deforming_ the adamantium in random spots as the glassy-shattering noise continued in less volume but at a greater rate.

Scarlet grabbed Rache’s chair and hauled backwards on it, spinning the Kalm native off to the yellow line without bothering her to get upright and extending a hand to help haul some of the team members out of the slightly depressed grated floor and back behind something splash-proof if not completely shrapnel-proof.

The woman would probably rip a strip of hide off him for it, but alive and pissed was always better than dignified and dead.

With an ear-splitting _pop_ that probably rattled everyones’ bones, the adamantium release tank finally split when even _overpressure_ hadn’t burst the other one of the same specifications. From the sharp spire of bluish-green-tinged-purple crystal suddenly there and still growing somehow, Scarlet could guess why if not _why it happened_.

“Look!” Shouting, even if he sounded rather muffled, Reeve grabbed his arm and pointed at the floor to redirect attention.

There, where the metal had split, were a couple magical crystal balls of greenish crystalized mako sitting innocently on the grates as if they hadn’t almost killed eight of the mako test emergency team members in their formation. More were probably still in the tank with the flat and broad shards of crystalized mako that ripped apart the metal, but they’d have to dig those out later.

“There’s _currents,_ Scarlet! Currents of mako, not just _pools_ of it. Given underground temperatures are _always_ at a certain degree, and if it’s _heated mako_ impacting _dense_ mako or just even less warm mako, then there _must be currents_ to create materia!”

“…huh, neat.” Given he got slapped on the same arm for his flippancy, he accepted that as his due and continued Reeve’s jaunt into theorizing. “That would mean that the deeper you go, the hotter it gets.”

“It _has_ to be hotter the deeper you go. It makes _thermal_ sense. If that reaction is ‘overheated’ or even just what happens when materia forms, then there might be _oceans_ of materia lying deep enough in mako streams. The currents crash together, the materia and crystals gets caught up in the forces and is probably more _thrown_ than bubbles to the surface in the springs... or it’s not caught it should _sink_.”

“Surrounded by boiling temperatures, sharp jagged crystal formations that apparently just suddenly spawn with deadly force, and who knows what else.”

“Oh, you’re _useless._ ” Spinning on a heel, Tuesti stalked off for their ‘observers’. “SOLDIER Rhapsodos, _enthuse_ with me!”

“Yes sir! Do I perhaps get to test those?”

“Fuck, _fine!_ As _if_ you weren’t hanging around just _pinning_ for the chance!” There was a very pointed clearing of a throat going on, so Scarlet turned to give Veld a pointed glare. “Yes, I see you Verdot. President Shin-Ra, good morning sir.”

“Quite the show, Scarlet my boy. Quite, the show.” The moderately overweight middle-aged man who ran the company gave him a sideways look of expectation. “Very interesting work here. Tell me, did you even _suspect_ this result…?”

“I thought the density test would do it, honestly sir.” Not grimacing when his shoulder was clapped with a meaty hand was probably a personal best, he shrugged which had the side-benefit of getting the man to stop touching him. “Director Tuesti thought the heat test would work. Frankly, I’m just thankful we decided to go with equalizing the differences after both and not just dumping the mako back into the Reactor afterwards.”

Reeve made a strangled noise behind him, probably recalling there _was_ mako spillage into the grates when their safety tank split. He suddenly shot off to the runoff drains, likely to be sure they hadn’t suddenly sprouted mako crystals too.

“A _very_ good thing you are always so careful, Scarlet.” President Shin-Ra informed him more seriously.

…could the old guy _get_ any more heavy-handed?

There was the _slight_ implication that the President was alluding to ‘not causing massive structural damage’ to a Reactor being a good thing, but given his Turk bodyguards and the man’s general dark-natured habits he knew full well he was entirely capable of… he could easily understand that had been a threat about what would’ve happened if he wasn’t the way he was.

“Of course, sir.”

“Still, quite the feather in your cap here. The first step to artificial materia manufacturing. Marvelous.”

Scarlet slid his gaze to the side to look at Veld. “Thank you, sir.”

“President Shin-Ra, you have a meeting with the city planners of Junon and the general you’re sending to reinforce the port soon.” The head of his special operations department quietly reminded the man. “And Director Palmer inquired if you had time to stop by to review and confirm the plans for the development of the rocket test site.”

“No rest for the wicked, hey Scarlet?”

“We’ve got to clean up and reset to reproduce the results again for veracity’s sake, sir. Then figure out how to not lose an expensive bit of metal tankage in the process while we’re at it. Thank you for taking the time to be here for the first one.”

The heavyset President nodded sharply, striding off in a power walk that his bodyguards were long used to matching from the way they all moved in concert with him. “Then I’ll leave you to it, Director. Keep up the good work.”

“…of _course_ , sir.” Scarlet muttered, keeping his eyes on the head of the Turks pointedly. “Tanis, I think we deserve a break before we assess the damages.”

“ _Sure_ , Director. A break. Come on men!” Wincing when Rache got up from her chair to punch him in the arm and storm past him, the never-was-a-coal-miner coughed sheepishly and clapped his hands together. “And ladies. Brunch time!”

Luckily for him, Tanis wasn’t actually sexist or anything. He just really didn’t give two shits about what gender people were, and generalized to ‘men’ because that was concise enough for his purposes when directing team efforts. It got him slapped in the arm sometimes, yes, but it wasn’t any intentional slight against their female coworkers and they seemed to realize the same thing eventually besides giving him shit for it or didn’t care at all in the first place.

“I quit.” Rache informed Scarlet on her own way out, not even pausing to see if he had anything to say in response.

Not that he had much, aside whatever blessing she’d accept and whatever help she might want to ever consider asking for in the future. He did appreciate her help, even if she was resigning.

Veld waited patiently for the massive room to empty of its technicians and mechanics eagerly speculating wildly just because they could, only speaking once the three Directors were left with three equally as curious SOLDIERs First-Class that weren’t budging. “It’s good to see you, Scarlet. You appear better than when we last spoke.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it, Verdot. I don’t feel much better.”

Folding his arms behind his back, less rigid than when Sephiroth did the same in unease, the Director of the Turks nodded thoughtfully. “That is… perfectly understandable. Then do indeed take my word for it. Now, you have a question?”

“More like the same one. How, the _hell_ , did I join the Shin-Ra Company? I seem to be _missing_ those memories.”

“…my answer will not change, Scarlet. I asked, you agreed.”

“I was suffering a psychotic break. I wasn’t _remotely_ competent enough to make a life-changing and _informed_ decision, as evidenced by the _holes in my memories_.”

Veld weighted that in his mind and probably his ‘very intent on a straight answer this time’ ambush with witnesses, equally ignoring their still very curious and now highly interested audiences’ rapt attention on the two of them. “It took me several months to realize the same thing, Scarlet. You were… very much not admitting to anything at that point and staving everything off at spearpoint if possible or your colorful vocabulary if not. Even still, ten years later? Or is it _twenty?_ Of going anywhere from three days to _eight_ once without sleep, your rate of innovation never really slowed. Now you’ve figured out how to _manufacture_ materia… and you’re not remotely even back to where you once were. Are you?”

“I’m still waking up. Besides, it’s damn obvious when you take ‘materia springs’ and ‘under the earth’ and look at it together.” Waving that off, Scarlet crossed his arms over his chest and suspiciously studied the polite attention he had aimed his way. “The President didn’t recruit me, it was you.”

“…Scarlet, at _that_ time you would’ve ripped his throat out with your teeth. It was several more years before you would not swear everyone out for even approaching you, regardless of intent. You were not a _passive_ man in nature when we met.”

That… _probably_ could go without acknowledgement if it was true. President Shin-Ra might’ve _used_ to be a mechanic once himself, but he long since changed to a greedy businessman more concerned with raking in the gil. Veld _was_ the head of the Turks sworn to further his control on just about everything he didn’t already have a department for, and the fat man’s protection too.

“What was I doing?”

“Ah… now that is a story.” The smirk growing on his short-bearded face probably meant nothing good, but he wanted the holes filled in. “Interestingly enough… you had just been arrested.”

“…what?”

That hadn’t been Scarlet, but he fully fucking agreed with the sentiment.

Luckily, the Turk was fully aware he had the same question and expounded without more prompting. “In Junon, you had been arrested… assault and attempted murder, actually. It should have been battery, but… well. Then you decided to engineer the jail cell to collapse around you, wander to the port barefoot and bleeding, commandeer a vessel, sail yourself most of the way to Costa del Sol, _abandon_ the ship just off shore, then wandered most of the way to Mount Corel before we finally caught up to you. You thought it had been Mount Nibel from what you would say, actually.”

…yeah, no. “You’re making this up, aren’t you? I’m not blacklisted in Junon, as I’d be if I tried to ineptly murder someone then ran for it. Shin-Ra Electric Company’s Director of Advanced Weaponry or not.”

“I am.” Veld smirked even more, which pulled at the scar on his cheek, the smug smarmy git with all the answers. “You accidentally managed to reverse engineer a bomb in shockingly few minutes. _Then_ tried to wander off, telling me you weren’t a ‘ninja’ you were a _blacksmith_. Very… creatively. And with more than a few vulgar allusions to what you wished I would do otherwise than continuing to associate with you.”

That tickled _something_ in the back of his head, as much as he knew better than to take any Turk at their word. He suspected none of this was in any proper order. “That’s not the _end_ of that story, right?”

“You also managed to stab several people to death with a fishing spear. They _were_ trying to kidnap young Rufus Shin-Ra, but to be honest I don’t think you honestly cared at the time. They might have also been trying to kill us, Scarlet. So yes, actually, you _did_ manage to murder a few people in Junon and not be blacklisted for it.”

“Shut _up_ , Verdot. I… no, I _don’t_ remember this but I do know I was pissed they were kidnapping a kid.” He had not changed all _that_ much even with exhaustion dragging him bodily through the mud behind the inevitable march of time, and this story was tugging more than might have possibly been memories than the other one. “…I still tried to run for it, didn’t I?”

“You even stole a boat.”

“A _skiff_ , Verdot. Single-sailing vessels with a pointed bow and a square aft are _skiffs_. I tried…? I stole? A _skiff._ ”

“Yes, I recall you claiming the same thing when Legend and I finally caught up to you again.” Confirmed the complete ass pleasantly. “You also were still barefoot and bleeding the entire time.”

He thought about the new story, fragments of memory trying to give it credit or not. “Why am I friends with you?”

“I have no idea.” Veld insisted.

He considered it even longer. “Half of what just came out of your mouth is complete behemoth shit, but part of it’s true.”

“I would prefer you to recall the incident on your own, Scarlet. Most everything I’ve told you, you told _me_ at one time or another over the last decade. You can recall some of it, as you only now recalled the type of a boat you commandeered. Perhaps this time you will retain the information.” With a slight nod to a probably flabbergasted Reeve hovering somewhere behind Scarlet, Veld turned crispy on a heel and exited the subterranean room. “I appreciate that you took my request to become better seriously this time, Scarlet.”

“…one of these days, I’ll get a straight answer out of him. Then I’ll promptly drop dead of a heart attack.”

“ _That’s_ your best friend?”

“…I wasn’t in my right mind, okay?” Scarlet defended himself sourly, not looking backwards to see what Reeve’s expression was at now. “Fuck it, who wants lunch?”

“You have a very… colorful past, Director Scarlet.” Sephiroth informed him conversationally, the utterly _underwhelming_ way he phrased it getting Hewley to bury his face in _both_ hands behind him with a despairing noise. “Are psychotic breaks a usual occurrence for you?”

“I’m ninety percent sure that sixty percent of that was due to my probably unbalanced brain chemistry back then. Yes, Sephiroth, I ‘went crazy’ for a bit. They happen, I finished growing and it evened out, I got better. If _all_ of them remain on that floor until we get back, Rhapsodos, I will let you _keep_ a Fire for ‘long-term stress testing’.”

“…this is cruel and unusual, Director. You _already_ said I may test for which ones they are.”

Hewley, alerted to where his little friend went, dropped his hands and commenced glowering at the other redhead disapprovingly. “Genesis, there will be more. You should not _steal_ any-“

“It’s not _stealing_ , Angeal. It’s being _efficient_. I _want_ something to pair with Quadra before we deploy, and if it’s a Fire Materia then I’m _content_.”

“Scarlet… are you okay?” Tuesti inquired when the SOLDIERs got distracted either attempting to tell off or belittle their third’s shitty skills in subterfuge and his very vocal defense of the same. Hands very firmly clasped together before him as he rounded around to regard Scarlet both sadly and seriously, because the man was that bewilderingly nice about everything.

“…I’m _here_ , Reeve. That’s about all I can promise. I don’t remember how I got _here_ , and I might never make it to ‘okay’ again. I’m still me, I just… apparently I don’t make the best decisions when left alone. We’re all probably lucky Verdot kept me from ending up dead in a ditch somewhere when I was out of it, and the fucker _didn’t_ tell me what he recruited me _for…_ the fucking _asshole._ ”

Sephiroth, probably the only one left in the room aside from him that took the entire conversation and simply accepted it in stride instead of avoiding or being sad about it, turned to look at him equally as politely as Veld could. “Do you recall something new, Director?”

“ _We._ ” Scarlet admitted with a huff, rubbing the back of his neck as something about the whole ‘admission/story’ Veld told him clicked into place once he stopped trying to force it. “Verdot was _in_ the cell _with me_ , _we_ got arrested in Junon. He broke his lockpicks, the jail cell door had a heavy sliding bolt gear not a simple tumbler lock, _that’s_ why I collapsed the bars around us. He was pissing me off bitching about getting himself and a ‘civilian’ arrested and breaking his equipment, and I wanted my spear. I made him a better set out of _trash_ to get him to shut up about it. _Then_ I told him I wasn’t a ninja, I was a _blacksmith_ , and kindly leave me the fuck alone.”

That wasn’t… all of it. He could tell from the fogged fragments of memories of more just beyond what little he recalled, but at least he now knew how the fucking _hell_ he ended up with a Turk as a best friend. 

They got arrested together, by _accident_. 

If that was before or after either foiling a kidnapping or his apparently abortive nautical adventure was still beyond him, but he now _remembered_ a little.

“…I am _never_ going to let him live that down.” He admitted to the sound of Rhapsodos snickering in the background.

Said redheaded brat swung around, hands empty of materia, to regard him only moderately seriously. “So. You’re a lunatic.”

“ _Lunar_ , addict. Lunatic. I’m not _moon-crazy_ , Rhapsodos. I’m just your normal flavor of murderously inclined crazy. It’s a hell of a lot more common than you may think.” As in, he wouldn’t be the only one in the room given a couple years. Scarlet thought about it, then just had to shrug at the SOLDIERs still adjusting to the whole story and his very person. “And that’s pretty bold to claim in the face of the man that’s making you materia to get deployed with.”

There was a flippant wave of a wrist as the arrogant teenager dismissed that. “Please, you _already_ promised me some. In front of _witnesses_ even! Why, _President Shin-Ra_ himself. _Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul._ Director. You’re _crazy._ ”

“...probably.” He absently spoke over Hewley’s hissed reprimand for the disrespect, scratching at his jawline absently. “And?”

“ _And_ , he says. Angeal, he said _‘and’!”_

“That usually goes between two thoughts to either connect them or list, Genesis. Very good, you pointed it out.” Those mako-bright grey-almost-purple eyes flicked to Scarlet thoughtfully, and the burlier SOLDIER shook his head slowly. “And _that’s_ what’s giving Sephiroth advice.”

“I am unperturbed.” 

“That, my friend, is what I’m worried about.”

“If there’s one thing you can learn from me, kids, is that friends don’t let friends commit bloody homicide… unless all parties are completely sane and sober at the same time and agree.”

This apparently proved too much for poor Reeve’s patience, he spluttered as he unfroze from his horrified silence and started practically flailing in place. “ _Scarlet!_ That is… _what?_ No, _not_ a thing!”

“What?” 

“Be _quiet!”_ The normally kind-natured man snapped, from all signs very done with his bullshit. “SOLDIERs, Sephiroth, _homicide_ is _never_ the answer.”

“...Reeve, you’re talking to _SOLDIERs_. About a month from deployment.”

“I am aware Director Scarlet is, as he would say, full of behemoth shit.” Announced the silver-haired brat confidently. “I have never taken him at face-value without collaborating evidence, Director Tuseti.”

“Oh… that’s…” Trailing off awkwardly, he inspected the young teenagers in sequence. “Good. That’s good.”

“He doesn’t take anyone else at face-value either, Reeve.” Scarlet pointed out, amused as all hell. “Including you.”

His efforts were rewarded with a semi-exasperated, moderately worried look. “At this point, I’m going to count that as a blessing.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay, look. He doesn’t _mean_ to… end up forgetting. It happens a couple times a year pretty regularly.” Tanis reassured Reeve Tuesti hastily, scrambling for the phone. “When Scarlet _doesn’t_ have a major project to work on consistently, he gets a bit absently lost in his own head.”

“I don’t quite understand your meaning.”

“Director Verdot has been minding my Director long before me, he can explain it better than I can. I’ve only been added in four years ago. Somedays Scarlet can recall everything recent and operate like a functioning adult, some days he forgets what happened in _months_ of time and goes right back to avoiding sleep.”

Tapping three buttons in a specific pattern, the sub-Director of the Advanced Weapons Development Division sighed heavily when the head of the Turks apparently had been expecting his call and answered before the first ring could finish. “ _I’ll be right there, who was it?”_

“Director Tuesti, sir.”

“ _Don’t let him leave until I get there._ ”

Well at least it wasn’t the SOLDIERs, who all probably wouldn’t have allowed themselves to be waylaid from visiting everyone’s favorite psychotic weapon maker. Setting the phone back down in its cradle, Tanis turned back to the now very worried head of Urban Development. “First thing, he _will_ remember. Eventually. Just… not right now, sir.”

The man pressed his mouth together into a thin line under his neatly trimmed facial hair, brow furrowed. “Does this have to do with his ‘psychotic break’?”

“Oh, good. He told you.” The couple times someone got _surprised_ by it… at least the man could remember to do _that_ much consistently now when people didn’t leave him to do his thing alone. “It’s… stress, sir. So much stress Scarlet’s mind doesn’t quite work right anymore. Sometimes he’s an absolute riot to be around. The Director’s taught me a couple sea shanties in those periods and we get more tech-focused inventions out of him while he swears like the wild sailor he is at heart. Then there’s the times where he’s… not home. Physically _here_ , but just not aware of it and he tinkers with guns or cannons or forges another masterwork weapon.”

“…how bad is it?”

Tanis winced, gripping the edge of his desk to not wring his hands. “Most of the time, he forgets he and Verdot _are_ friends and treats him like he does most people. He won’t _swear_ at Director Verdot until he starts to recall more, but he won’t be _himself_ either.”

Director Tuesti vaguely nodded once, going a few shades whiter than he was normally.

“He’ll _remember_.” Stressed the engineer pointedly, thankful they had been through this before and everyone else working for him knew full well to leave the two of them alone while he was having this conversation. Again. “He always does.”

“He also apparently _always forgets_.”

“Not _entirely_. Some things will stay or repeat through it all. Like, it’s only been four years since I joined the Division, but Scarlet hasn’t forgotten me. Forgotten what he’s taught me or what projects he’s asked me to focus on, yes. That I’m here, and if need be he can hand things over to me to solve or fix for him? Nope. He recalls that much. He’s _functional_ , to a limited point.”

“You are trying very hard to reassure me, why?”

“You’re not the first in the company to figure out or be told Scarlet’s less than… always coherent.”

“…what happened?”

“Director Verdot and my Director have been friends for a long time.” Tanis admitted slowly, watching the man to be sure the guy knew that before this. “They’re _really good_ friends, even if he can’t remember it often enough. No one that ever tried to take advantage of the man ever gets further than talking about it. Scarlet will _always_ make Turk request a priority over even the President’s no matter what state he’s in, Turks will _always_ interfere when others get curious without the man being… _actually_ aware of it.”

Director Tuesti actually got _offended_ , which depressingly was a positive response to that bit of information. “I would _never_ attempt to take advantage of the man, Tanis. _Especially_ if he cannot currently sort out reality _himself_.”

“That’s why you _reached_ this floor today, Director.” Kind of a slight lie, but he’d live with it happily. “When Scarlet’s not… himself, we don’t get nearly as much traffic looking for him for, um. Reasons.”

“I am assuming _Turk_ reasons.” Checked the other man sourly, then shrugged that off with another worried and pinched expression. “If Scarlet’s… not himself, _how_ has he _remained_ the Director of Advanced Weaponry? I have full faith in the man when he’s apparently himself, Tanis. Just… how?”

“…Director, a _couple things_ will always stay true. Scarlet _always_ does his paperwork. No matter what, he gets it done before he starts tinkering with things. It takes a little longer on days like this, he has to hunt back through the files to figure out what most of them are even referring to. But it’s _always done._ Even half out of his mind and half dead from exhaustion.”

Reeve blinked at him in shock. “…oh.”

“He’s _functional._ He sticks to routines when he’s otherwise distracted or absent.” Tanis repeated with some grim humor. “He _can_ function in the full capacity of his job, doesn’t hurt himself or anyone else beyond the usual workshop-related accidents, will somewhat robotically mind everyone else’s safety while he’s present. Can eat if someone prompts him, will work practically until he drops. He’s _still here_.”

“Just not entirely.”

“You’re focusing on the wrong part, Director. He always comes back. As a matter of fact, it just suddenly _got better._ We had more ‘good’ days in a row in the last two months than we’ve had in the four years I’ve been tracking it. He’s been his growly, bitchy, weirdly insightful self for almost two months _consistently_.”

“What happened?”

“I have no clue, sir.”

Director Tuesti silently contemplated that, fingers tapping against his neat beard. “How _long_ has this been going on?”

“That, depending on which part you are questioning, has either gone on for more than eight years or over fourteen.” The head of the Turks announced blandly, stepping into the ‘green workshop’ responsible for testing everything that came out of the Weapons Development Department of Shin-Ra, with a depressingly subdued expression unlike the last time he saw the man. “Scarlet wasn’t always this way, Director Tuesti. Tanis, do you still have a conference room set aside for this?”

<<◊>>

“I had the SOLDIERs sent out on an emergency monster hunting mission near Kalm, they won’t be back for three days.” Verdot informed Tanis lowly while Reeve sunk into one of the several chairs situated around a mostly empty meeting room, joining him after the younger man gave a wry smirk and a nod before stepping right back out the door. “Director. I assume you would like an explanation?”

“I’ve got just enough parts of the story to be very confused.” He confirmed a bit dryly, sadly aware that if what the other man claimed was _right_ … as bewildering as it was for him it had to be even worse for Scarlet’s best friend to see the other man like he currently was right now. “Eight _years?”_

“Scarlet’s story starts further back than that. Before I met him. He still won’t, and never has, informed me what happened. However, he was fully coherent at all times a decade and some years ago.”

“Do I get to hear how you two met?” Reeve inquired softly, trying to interject something lighthearted in what he suspected would not be a happy story.

“Almost fifteen years ago he was a journeyman blacksmith, wandering around the world learning from various master smiths. And insulting them by critiquing their work to their faces in his usually _charmingly_ descriptive vocabulary when he got fed up with them or what he saw as unnecessary frills to otherwise acceptable work.”

He tried not to snicker, but _oh…_ he could easily see that. “Then you apparently got both him and yourself arrested in Junon?”

“Ah. So he remembered that.” Verdot was still too composed to smile at him, but these were obviously better memories as he wasn’t sitting so rigidly across the table anymore. “Scarlet unintentionally wandered himself straight into a kidnapping attempt of Rufus Shin-Ra, the President’s son, when the now young man was five. Armed to the teeth as he was on his way out of the city to find a ‘more competent’ blacksmith to learn from, he silently opted to assist us in keeping the young boy safe before we were overwhelmed. While we were slightly disorganized and my partner took young Rufus back to our safehouse, the military police came upon him and I and several corpses while I was questioning him about why he helped us. Still holding the ‘murder weapons’, I couldn’t convince the MPs that I was a Turk while before we were arrested. I was just as young as Scarlet was at that time.”

“I thought you told him you both were arrested for assault and _attempted_ murder?”

“…that incident came later.”

Reeve eyed the other man incredulously. “Are… _after?_ Do you mean to say that wasn’t the _only_ time the two of you were _arrested?”_

The Director of Turks then suddenly smirked, a startling change that made his somewhat stern features soften into a recognizable and very human expression of sly amusement. “Well. Scarlet has an extraordinarily strong moral code for a few extremely specific things, it sometimes gets the better of him despite my best efforts. We got arrested by various townships’ law enforcement outfits quite a few times in the first few years of knowing one another, if I am forced to be honest. _Several_ times by Junon MPs. We’re not blacklisted… but we both _are_ banned from several establishments across both the Eastern and the Western Continents for reasons. All varied and not interesting. My old partner Valentine got rather exasperated over the number of times he had to bail us out of jail in those first two years after we met.”

Spluttering while trying not to laugh, and then laughing anyways when the other man kept on smirking at him, he valiantly tried to ignore that he actually _giggled_ in the very bland room meant for twenty people for about three minutes straight.

“Is…? Oh _dear_. And that’s how he joined the Shin-Ra Electric Company?”

Verdot’s pleasantly amused smirk faded. “Scarlet will never be able to recall how he was hired, Tuesti. He never applied or did any interview, I got him the job. About a year and some several months after the first of his episodes, so I could keep a closer eye on him when he couldn’t.”

Abruptly sobering, Reeve winced as his question unintentionally killed any levity. “Then… why do you tell him things the two of you did before that instead of admitting it when he asks?”

“I’ve told him. Repeatedly. However, as Scarlet has no memories of agreeing or deciding to join Shin-Ra himself, once he starts to remember again he always gets confused on why he’s working here. And, more selfishly, I dislike those arguments. He’ll end up agreeing with me that it’s for the best with his state being as it is in the moment, but as he went five years refusing to join every time we met to the point of flatly refusing before even greeting me? It wasn’t what _he_ wanted. That was also before we knew the full effects of his episodes and that he wouldn’t recall anything within them after he’s wakes up. Repetition does not make those fights any better than the first ten times, even if I know now what to say better than he can argue.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. And while I might not appreciate fighting with him, I do greatly prefer it when Scarlet can see me as his friend regardless of what topic we’re covering.”

“So… eight years.” Reeve regretfully prompted the very loyal Turk gently, wanting to know in order to help but well aware this had to be a painful subject to be dug up.

Verdot shook his head. “Further back than that. Scarlet was already running like his life depended on it before I met him, he wouldn’t stay in any one place for long. He _was_ a journeyman blacksmith of some decent skill then, and as a known sympathetic weapons maker to us the Turks kept a log of where he was as he was just an acceptable option as returning to a Shin-Ra outpost or buying new if any equipment became damaged or broken in the field. Before we met in Junon he circled the Nibel Mountain for a few years, then the area where Bone Village would be built. He in fact helped establish the archaeological dig site, studying the Ancient weapon designs there for the longest time he’d stay put in one place. After I met him he stopped off in Icicle Inn for a few months, but would end up somewhere in Wutai or Corel Valley or Cosmo Canyon the next time I checked in with him. That… was probably where it started.”

“But he wasn’t…?”

“Scarlet was fully sane and completely able to manage his own affairs between visits. I never suspected there was a reason for his wandering about other than learning enough to obtain his mastery in a way he was satisfied with. I pieced most of this together later on, after it was too late.”

“…is it too late? Tanis said it’s suddenly better.”

“You’re getting ahead of me, Director Tuesti.” Chided the older man without showing anything like sudden hope or any small measure of relief at the bit of information.

“Reeve. Call me Reeve, Verdot. I’m sorry I didn’t realize this earlier and couldn’t help you.”

The Turk regarded him carefully, likely still poised on a needle’s point with nerves but he could entirely appreciate why when it wasn’t _him_ but his _best friend_ that was the topic. His whole department was not known to be the chatty type, but here the man was doing exactly that.

“Reeve then. Returning to the root of the issue, Scarlet was always stressed. I assumed his studies or attempting to find a master he could respect the work of, or the constant traveling and affording it at the same time. Between my missions, and sometimes during, when we met up I could usually take his mind off it with getting his help with various aims or getting him to replace or fix my pistols. He enjoyed the distractions and the new problems to apply innovative solutions to. We occasionally argued and got into fights, but we were young and had different opinions that sometimes clashed. I… still don’t understand why it was _that_ fight that broke Scarlet’s mind, we had several times gone over _remaining_ in one place and why he should just _pick_ somewhere and make due. Not that I realized it at the time his mind finally caved in from the stress. I assumed he was just being stubborn again, he was _supremely_ so as a younger man and had never before minded returning to Junon when Rufus requested his assistance with either his own studies or just to make him a new model shotgun with specific features included.”

Remaining silent, Reeve respectfully waited for the rest of the story as the other man trailed off.

“…Scarlet just looked straight at me, silently unlike how he normally is when either annoyed or angered. Then he turned on a heel and stalked right out of the blacksmith’s forge he had been renting a couple hours in to repair his Trident. That he didn’t _take_ the weapon with him, broken or not, should’ve informed me something was worse than wrong. I later tracked him down to Junon, where he had already stolen a skiff and sailed it out of the harbor while I assumed he had gone to see Rufus and I went back to Kalm to collect his things. He abandoned the ship off the coast a little way away from Costa del Sol’s harbor and attempted to brutally murder Professor Hojo with his bare hands behind my back. The Turks assigned to the man almost didn’t stop Scarlet, but only did in the end because they had been ordered to keep the Director of Science and Research alive.”

“…what?”

“It’s also one of the most _consistent_ things about Scarlet now. Every time he becomes more aware of both himself and reality, he resolves to or actually attempts to murder Professor Hojo.” Verdot smirked grimly this time, although he couldn’t see _why_ the man would be even slightly amused by this apparent habit. “The good Professor now has a phobia of bright red colors from the many attempts on his life and will not vacation in Costa del Sol or anywhere with a beach.”

“What?” He could only repeat his question weakly as he tried to recall a previous mention of the significantly older man, absolutely blindsided by this twist.

“As I had no idea Scarlet even knew _of_ Hojo, and the scientist _insists_ he did nothing to fuel any desire of homicide from the man, my reaction was quite literally exactly that. Not that I _particularly_ like the Professor myself. I keep letting Scarlet forget to get his hair cut, it’s surprisingly effective in keeping the two of them apart and my friend doesn’t seem to mind as long as he can keep it out of his face. Even if he is against growing a beard… he seems to light any facial hair on fire rather frequently when he has some.”

…but he could easily read between the lines that while the Turk had little information on why, he did not remotely mind the consistent if murderous impulse of his best friend’s. If Scarlet wasn’t confined somewhere very far _away_ from the middle-aged scientist, then there might actually be a reason he was attempting homicide.

Homicide.

“ _Friends don’t let friends commit bloody homicide, unless all parties are_ completely _sane and sober_.” Reeve suddenly recalled, staring in no little amount of shock at the unrepentant man.

“That one took me a couple years and several attempts. Now once Scarlet realizes I’m standing in his way he’ll just plot instead of attempt it. The attempted murder charges are somewhat annoying to resolve without excessive jail time and he does not do well with sudden changes in scenery he didn’t chose or nothing to do.”

“…how? What, no. _How?_ How _can_ you keep Scarlet out of jail if he’s already tried and apparently almost succeeded?”

“I couldn’t in the beginning. Which made Scarlet get _worse_ , with nothing to do but stress out more in a cell while staying fixedly awake. Then, because he _is_ a smart man and quite the master of engineering and blacksmith techniques with several years dedicated to learning everything he could and helping us with it, he’d escape. And try again to murder Professor Hojo. Then get arrested for it. A year and a half of that back and forth between us, then Scarlet ‘woke up’ for the first time since his mind snapped. He informed me that he had suffered a psychotic break which meant he could not make informed decisions about his life, and that ‘circles cannot break themselves’. Then his mind drifted again almost immediately, no recognition of me or Legend or any of the other Turks that wanted to see about what was wrong with our weapons maker.”

Slightly more than utterly overwhelmed and thinking some sour thoughts about Tanis’ reassurance of how Scarlet wasn’t a danger to anyone giving him a false impression he’d be properly sorry for later, Reeve buried his face in both hands for a long moment. “…why is he the Director, if he’s…?”

“I didn’t _intend_ for him to get that high. When I arranged for the job, the intent was to have Scarlet occupy his mind and hands somewhere the Turks could watch to ensure he didn’t attempt any more planned or otherwise homicide. However… the _last_ Director of Advanced Weaponry realized Scarlet’s mind, shattered though it may be otherwise, was cleverer than his. I put a stop to it once a few discrepancies were noted between his orders and his paperwork, he was completely clueless to them. Then Scarlet, as a department head by that time for he does do good work no matter his state of mind, covered the paperwork for a few weeks. Nothing changed in quality or policy, and we realized how long the not-mourned former Director had been using Scarlet’s absent acceptance of any work to his own advantage.”

Oh. Well. Okay then. “…’circles cannot break themselves’.”

“I had no idea what Scarlet was talking about, but as it was the _only_ thing he had uttered in a year and a half I tried to figure it out. The psychotic break was actually news to me, I had no idea he knew anything about the various maladies of the mind but as he was an associate of ours that seemingly came to harm due to us… the Turks researched it.”

Well, at least they were at a point Reeve might contribute to. “What does it _mean?_ The psychotic breaks?”

“Time no longer has any meaning to Scarlet. He’ll use timekeeping in his work, but they usually mean nothing to him but another unit of measurement to use. I highly doubt he’s realized how long he’s been working here at all or can understand it’s been almost a decade since he started to slide mentally. These last two months were remarkably curious in that respect, as he seemed aware of the passage of time without being even moderately upset by it or it forcing him back into his mind with more stress as has happened before when he noticed. It’s not so much a sudden thing as the terms suggests, it is a slide. He’ll register those around him and account for it like this… but not _who’s_ around him nor interact with others by choice.”

Reeve considered all the information, trying to find a respectful way to ask but not really seeing one. “Then it ‘got better’? At least according to Tanis.”

“Without any external changes in a stable situation, Scarlet will wake up. It takes anywhere from a couple months to sometimes weeks and not all at once, but he’ll realize himself again. At the start, it would be nearly a full _year_ before he could recognize me between ‘episodes’. Recognition got more frequent as time went by without any assistance, so I resolved to wait for him to come back fully himself. We _were_ in a period of ‘absent’, as a matter of fact had only days before drifted from being himself. Then he spotted SOLDIER Rhapsodos being harassed by Doctor Hollander by chance on his way into work one day. And interfered. Himself.”

“Did _he_ ‘break’ a circle, then?”

“I’ve tried multiple times to pull him out of his own head, Reeve. It never worked before. Not new places nor new people around him will do it. Somehow, it _now_ works.”

“Does he just need more time?”

“I can only hope.” Verdot suddenly grimaced without the grim, or any, humor to it. “And, if Scarlet does succeed in keeping his mind for longer and longer periods from here on out, he’s going to likely _finish_ the attempted homicide he started so long ago. Attempted murder charges are somewhat annoying to deal with, Hojo _can’t_ press the issue against Scarlet as I have some things to hold over him, actual homicide charges of a high-profile individual? I won’t be able to bury that for him before anyone outside of the company learns of it. This whole floor is already well versed in how to prevent Scarlet from damaging his reputation unknowingly, but that won’t hold the moment he leaves here.”

Clasping his hands together and placing his elbows on the conference room table, he thought about all the pieces he was being trusted with. Voluntarily or not, by the Turk’s or by _Scarlet’s_ choice. “Can he tell you _why_ he’s so intent on… uh… murder?”

“I’ve asked. That, what happened before we met that terrified him so much, noticing how many years it’s been since he could _honestly_ recall anything in successive order, and what happened to my partner Valentine are all things that will immediately shut down Scarlet’s mind regardless of how stable he seems or how long it’s supposed to be before he forgets again. He _tries_ to remember for me, Reeve. He can’t. Then he wakes up and tries again.”

“So. He likely just needs more time, but he’s moving beyond the predictable and including other variables now. Possibly making it more difficult for you to protect him, as likely as it might mean he will eventually reach a ‘stable’ and fully coherent point. I’m guessing you need assistance, that’s why you’re telling me _any_ of this.”

Verdot leaned forward, catching Reeve’s eye and steadily staring him down. “I would like my friend _back_ , Reeve. At this point I don’t rightfully care how or even if it means he’d have to leave Shin-Ra and wander the world again. Just so long as it’s _him_ , and not this shallow mockery of a stranger that wears his face that doesn’t have half his brilliance. If you, and the SOLDIERs, are what Scarlet needs to pull himself back together… then I’ll do whatever I can to ensure he has it.”

“I am completely willing to assist you and Scarlet, Director Verdot.” He reassured the Turk hastily, before his conclusions got himself into trouble somehow. “But… _how?”_

“I have no idea.”

“What do we tell the SOLDIERs? About… everything? They _deploy_ to Wutai soon, Verdot.”

“…I have no idea.”


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing weird was… Tseng. Just, _all_ of the Turk.

Scarlet was innocently tinkering in his workshop, trying to get this stupid thing to _work_ right, and in waltzed the younger man like the overly glorified nanny he was. “Yes, what’s your bucket, I _know_. Just, fuck, give me a couple more hours.”

Instead of blithely ignoring him and nattering on about his proper footwear or how sleep was a _requirement_ not an _option_ , as per usual… there was a few seconds of pure silence before he finally spoke up. “…Director Scarlet, do you know who I _am?”_

The question was so far out of what he expected that the already exhaustion-addled redhead turned sharply, pointing his little adapted punch-into-a-hot-metal-probe at the younger man standing in the doorway. “What kind of a fucking question _is_ that, Tseng? Of _course_ I know who you are, it’s been a couple years since we met.”

Staring at him just long enough to make Scarlet feel awkward and not entirely sure anymore, the Wutai native finally blinked slowly. “Could you elaborate, if you please?”

“…shit, man, I’m not _that_ much of an asshole.”

“Humor me, sir.” He immediately prompted, without inflection to tell the older man if he had offended him somehow.

“Uh… okay. You were like… fifteen. Just before the war broke out. _Technically_ recruited as a diplomat slash more a cultural expert, but when negotiations broke down with Wutai’s Royal family shortly after you ended up enlisting with Verdot’s group. Like… four-five years ago. Then you got used to me and never left me the fuck _alone_ , so now you’re the one he sends when I stay up too long and you’re not on missions elsewhere.”

Tseng stared at him some more, and Scarlet was now seriously getting weirded out by this conversation.

This wasn’t how it _went_.

“Okay, look. I’m going.” Dropping his tools to the workbench, he somewhat jerkily got to his feet from the little stool he used when doing delicate work at a bench instead of forging something. Even if it was half-and-half this time. “I’m not _that_ bad.”

“You _consistently_ refer to me as ‘what’s your name’, Director Scarlet.” Tseng immediately proved him wrong, tucking his hands behind the middle of his back as the older man shuffled his feet in the vague direction of ‘out’. “I will admit ’what’s your bucket’ is new, I usually have to prompt you about what my name _is_ before you will use it.”

“…I’ll vary it up, how about that?” Scarlet muttered guiltily, rubbing a hand across his face while he wondered just _why_ he was being an ass to Tseng.

“I do not mind, Director.”

“Pull the other one, man. It’s got bells.”

“You have your reasons, and I understand that.”

That was news to him. Which shouldn’t be news to him, if he had previously clarified a reason to the young man that he thought was fully understandable. Probably a logical explanation, because Turk.

…and he was now giving himself a migraine.

Rubbing the heel of his right hand against his right eye as his brain viciously protested the effort in trying to dredge up memories that might not actually exist, as it was entirely possible Veld told his little minion why Scarlet was somewhat to vindictively resentful of him… he tiredly sighed. “Okay, look. I’m _sorry_ , I’m actually an asshole to a degree worse than I like to be.”

Regarding him closely for a few more seconds, the Turk in question nodded simply. “As you say, sir.”

“I take it back, _you’re_ an ass.”

“If you insist, Director. It is _still_ the thirty-fourth hour after you have clocked in for the day. Perhaps now the thirty- _fifth_.”

Ahh normality. How… strangely disquieting.

The migraine wasn’t going away, it probably wouldn’t until he tried and failed to get some sleep. In like a _week_ from now, since they didn’t ease as quickly as simple headaches. Scarlet was very fucking confused, very fucking tired, and in enough throbbing pain his limited curiosity failed to overwhelm it all to linger and ask.

“Whatever. I’m going to bed.”

“That would be an excellent aim, Director.”

“One of these days, I’m going to stick my spear into your foot.”

“I would like to see that, sir.”

The jerk was laughing at him, no matter the completely straight face and politely intent expression.

Scarlet had to let it go without denying Tseng the last word, his head hurt enough and he was suddenly bewilderingly _more_ _exhausted._ Enough to fall asleep on his own damn feet, so shuffling off to his place was probably the last thing he’d be able to do today.

<<◊>>

…when did he get a house?

 _Why_ did he get a house?

Scarlet spent _entirely_ too long simply staring at the house like someone just _begging_ to be mugged.

An _actual_ house, two floors with a grey shingled-roof and with so much more space than a single bachelor type like him needed. With a little fenced-in yard and everything. It was a mostly _dead_ yard, brown crispy grass long dead and one barren rotting tree just hanging about like it deserved to be there.

It probably did, everything else in the neighborhood looked equally as creepy and dead. A remnant of a dead memory in real life, still populated by the depressed and the desperate.

The reddish-tan brick fencing would’ve been pretty, had there been _any_ life in the lawn. He kind of wondered what type of tree that had been when it had been alive, and if it had grown anything on those gnarled branches.

The Sector Seven plate wasn’t yet to this point, the permanent and encroaching shadows stopped a couple streets away. It was as little as two or three months that’d change and what was apparently _his house_ would need to be completely lit at all hours in order for anyone to see anything in front of their nose.

Why _under_ the plate?

No, wait. He knew the answer to that. It probably wouldn’t really _help_ anything, but at least he’d needle _someone’s_ … well. Pocketbook. It wasn’t like anyone but him and Reeve on the Executive Board really cared for human life or the quality of that life. Veld was entirely too much a Turk to be all that upset, maybe just by the sheer _amount_ that would be killed all at once.

Maybe.

Scarlet rubbed his face roughly as he wavered on his feet and his spear point dug into the brick paved road, aware his thoughts weren’t really all that _fair_ to his best friend’s slightly damning position.

Veld _had_ to take the position, after… after…

Wincing as his migraine acted up, a nearly _physical_ throb that even gritting his teeth didn’t reroute or remind the pain it was entirely _not_ physical, he shuffled forward to go see if his key actually did fit that front door’s lock. Then probably find where there was a bed, mildly sure that the darkness would _help_ with dulling his migraine when he knew for sure sleep wouldn’t. 

Sleep never helped him.

It’s why his workshop was so badly lit, until he needed a stronger light. Light was one of those things that triggered his migraines, when there was too much of it in his face he got a new one to nurse.

That was _also_ why Veld confiscated his Ice/Elemental Materia combination and gave it to the Shin-Ra armory, the overly worried jackass. Not that he objected himself at the time, really. Scarlet knew _perfectly well_ overusing flashy magic these days gave him issues, but just because it hurt him didn’t mean all the fucking monsters would pause and let him go off to nurse a headache after every spell.

…well, they’d _pause._ Elemental was _damn good_ at that, icy spear thrusts tended to give him less issues than actual Ice spells.

He _mastered_ that Elemental, right?

…there was a whole SNAFU about figuring out which was which, the old mastered materia or the new unused one. It had popped out of his spear because of the linked slots, they hadn’t ‘reset’ when the mastered materia shrank back to the ‘initial’ size of the fucking baubles so both of the bluish-purple materias fell to the blood-splattered ground practically _on_ his boots.

Once they _had_ figured it out with entirely _too_ much trouble for the results, he gave the newer one to-

Scarlet blinked, somewhat painfully. Not entirely sure what he had been thinking about for the last five minutes, but well aware he was entirely too tired to sit and figure it out, given he had keys in hand and was right before a door he could figure it out pretty damn well without bludgeoning his already stressed out mind about it.

Why, the _hell_ , did he get a house?

It wasn’t like _he_ needed the space…

His key fit the lock and easily turned to unlock a deadbolt, so it _was_ his house.

Curious.

“ _Director!”_

Scarlet turned slightly to glance over his shoulder, and damn near _dropped_ both his keys and his spear in sheer surprise that finally eclipsed the pain from his migraine and practically killed it. “The _fuck_ , Hewley? You need a bath.”

Said burly youth was storming away from one half-keeled over Rhapsodos giggling his fool head off and a mildly perplexed looking Sephiroth walking down the street in the vague way of the Sector’s train station, already homing in on his ‘front yard’s’ iron gate and the man standing on a porch. “Director, _please_ may I impose on you for a shower?”

“I’d hose you down… if I had one. Not sure about that. Come on, up the stairs and the first left. There’s towels up there already.” He might _be_ tired and in pain, but like _fuck_ he was missing this. “What’d you do, _roll_ in it?”

“Were you aware that abandoned houses could come _alive_ , Director?” Hewley bitterly asked, trying to get some of the gunk caking him off before stepping into Scarlet’s house and only succeeding in scraping off some of it befouling his boots. “There’s none of _those_ in Banora.”

That poor sword on his back looked _equally_ as dingy, so someone obviously hadn’t been paying attention to his mission brief or the lessons of just _what_ was lurking around Midgar.

Naughty, naughty.

“Hell houses, yeah I know. There’s a couple more around here if you feel like getting some payback, kid.” They weren’t really _houses_ , they just inhabited abandoned ones as a kind of shell and digested everything not structurally needed at first. More a rot-centered cellular organism that could build up to a full monster than an actual creature, monster or not, but they infected mechanical parts left to rust and tried to assemble everything into a… well, a house-shaped thing. Hitting it hard enough to make it fall apart was the trick, and he literally _meant_ fall apart. They weren’t too coherent, hence why it needed metal and a whole fucking house to help hold itself together. “Hewley… did it _eat you_ , or did you walk right into it’s mouth?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, sir.”

Scarlet let it slide as he put his spear into the rack waiting for it near the door, waving the still armed teenager on to his desperately needed shower before leaning out and shouting at the other two. “You two coming, or what!”

Rhapsodos gave up and collapsed on the road all but kicking his feet and pounding the pavement in his hilarity at his friend’s expense amid what looked like the packs they traveled around with, his own Rapier hooked into the loops of one. Sephiroth blinked down at the other teenager, looked up at him contemplatively, and apparently decided to leave the other teen to his own devices to follow Hewley’s path with _his_ pack and no-dachi in hand. “Good afternoon, Director Scarlet. You look considerably worse for wear.”

“Yeah… I was bad and didn’t sleep last night. Come on, you’re _teenagers_ and probably need to be fed, right?” He didn’t think he _had_ any groceries, but he could order something… and get it Turk-delivered, along with something new for Hewley to wear instead of what he had with whatever the hell was caked onto his uniform. “What do you feel like?”

“Sir?”

Seriously wondering about it, because he didn’t recall ever buying himself his own _coffee beans_ and he _knew_ he had those stocked, Scarlet waited just long enough for the somewhat socially stunted teenager to reach his front door and notice the weapons’ rack before wandering off to see if there _was_ anything edible in his kitchen. “Don’t know? It’s alright, you can’t tell before you try something and there’s all those _regional_ differences that can either be the best shit ever or disgusting as fuck.”

Scarlet… _did_ have groceries. Strangely.

Weird, he almost exclusively ate at the Shin-Ra cafeteria. Like… it had been _years_ since he made himself something to eat.

He hoped Veld was pulling the gil out of his accounts, and not paying for it himself or covering the cost with something else. Most of it probably rotted away without Scarlet glancing once at it, and that was a terrible waste of food.

…hmm. He _did_ have cream, from the looks of the carton. And it wasn’t expired, neither was the milk.

He only made _that_ mistake once, thank you.

For a bizarre world filled to the brim with monsters and streams of liquid memory below, there _were_ animals. Completely ‘normal’, only as mako-tainted as everything else was, and completely helpless against predators that _could_ think with an intelligence that sometimes trumped a human one and wielded their internal levels of mako into powerful attacks with elemental flavors. Not all of them _survived_ here, especially without the help of the humanoid races.

Mostly birds, who could outfly any dangers to a limited point. Insects, who out-bred the rate their predators ate them. Fish, who did practically both with swimming and the breeding. Cows _didn’t_ survive in a lot of regions, goats did surprisingly well anywhere weirdly enough, and chickens were… nowhere to be found if they ever existed in the first place. Pigs were… pigs.

With enough mako contamination, they mutated into other things… but there were still ‘normal’ variants around.

Deer and foxes were long since eaten by their monstrous-mutated counterparts to the point no one knew what they had looked like outside of legends. Wolves and the big cat species adapted to mako better, becoming just as monstrous as the monsters. He didn’t really bother looking for more animals when he suspected full well what happened to them before long.

Then there were chocobos.

They _were_ monsters, but practically the only one that could be domesticated with any degree of success. Aside a few extremely specific canine-like species. The oversized feathery ostrich-like ground birds roamed very _specific_ places about the world and breeding them just to race was a legitimate career somehow.

They could also be safely _eaten_. Without practically blackening the meat to try and kill both what lived _in_ the monsters and to ‘encourage’ the mako-thick blood to get out of the remains. That blood, monster blood, didn’t drain right… but if mako got thicker with heat then maybe he would’ve been better suited trying to rinse it all out with cold water?

Live and learn and all that jazz.

He had chocobo meat, the closest thing to chicken left in existence. Well, aside needle kiss meat or the front half of a griffin but the Turks had threatened to gut him if he ever made ‘chicken’ alfredo with the weird bird monsters ever again.

He still didn’t know _why_ Veld bitched so much about it, it was perfectly _tasty_ that way once you chipped off the charcoal. Even if taking the monsters down to cook with them was a pain in the ass. Hell, even-

It wasn’t like they had a lot of options for dinner at the time. The middle of fucking _nowhere_ with only an abandoned goat-farm in the area. He hadn’t had any cream that time, maybe that was what Veld’s problem was.

“Hey, Sephiroth. Do you know how to cook?” Scarlet inquired curiously, fruitlessly trying to ignore the pain behind his eyes as it started building up again.

“I do not.”

“Then grab me two pots, the biggest down there and a medium-sized one. Middle, whichever. And if you tell Verdot this recipe, I’ll… well. I might not be able to kill you, but I can ensure you regret it.”

He earned a raised eyebrow.

“Doubt me _not_ , kid. I’m a _master_ of bureaucratic behemoth shit, as you know full well. I can _bury_ you in paperwork for the rest of your miserable existence. Put them on the stove, then find me a bit of… oh, what was it? Dried lasan nut, cupboard right above the pots.”

Equal part cream and milk went into the smaller pot, then he grabbed the goat-cheese from the fridge when replacing those cartons back in it and grated it into the mix with a flat cheese grater he hadn’t known he had. Then about half of the small lasan nut, the closest thing to nutmeg he ever found.

It wasn’t exactly right and would never be no matter how he tried to tweak it all but then again, this wasn’t supposed to be made with _goat_ milk with cream from cow’s milk or without any parmesan.

Then he turned on that burner to cook down the sauce and got out the frying pan from the cupboard nearer the fridge than where Sephiroth was observing. “There’s noodles, dried, up there somewhere. Get down whatever I’ve got and put it in the largest pot after you add water. About halfway full of water, it’s going to boil and pasta-water is annoying as shit to clean up after it boils over. It _should_ cover a packet’s worth of dried noodles broken in half with a bit extra, adjust accordingly.”

Moderately more curious than obeying because he was interested in the process, the SOLDIER did so.

Rhapsodos slammed his way into the house while the pot was getting filled, sulking without his Rapier so hopefully it was with Sephiroth’s no-dachi. “It’s no fun if there’s no one _there_ to witness the hilarity, Sephiroth.”

“Don’t slam my door. And we’re so very _sorry_ for interrupting your giggle-fest for more important things, _Princess._ ” Scarlet drawled sarcastically without bothering to glance backwards, confirming to himself that there really weren’t any knives in his kitchen to cut the meat apart unlike how there was all these other tools that decide to spawn naturally or some such fucking nonsense. “Hey, _Verdot!_ When you get your ass here for dinner, fucking bring me a damn _knife!_ Or you’re eating your chocobo in _chunks_.”

“You _don’t_ have any knives?” Rhapsodos inquired pleasantly from the equally brand-new kitchen table the older redhead never realized he _had,_ lounging in a chair like the fucking _freeloader_ he was. “Oh. My. I _wonder_ why?”

“I’m crazy, not _suicidal._ And he didn’t take my knives in fear of what I’d do to _myself_ , thank you. I’ve never been _that_ kind of coward, _Princess._ ” The chocobo would have to be cooked whole which wasn’t hard, just annoying to ensure it got seasoned right. “We’ll probably get a _throwing_ knife rather than a chef’s… Sephiroth, you actually need to turn on the heat to boil anything.”

“I have identified the correct set of circles that indicate which one turns on the coil that is the correct size for the pot, Director, but how high? The marks are numbers, not settings.”

“All the way to ten until it starts boiling then reduce the heat to midway, five or six. We’re not going to burn the noodles unless we’re _really_ incompetent.” There was a wooden fork with the utensils he didn’t buy himself, which was a salad tossing fork but whatever, and he prodded the noodles first before he put it across the pot of still stiff pasta while it heated. “There _is_ such a thing as bubble tension, stupidly sounding or not. Anything the bubbles will get caught on will keep things contained, so laying anything across the pot will keep the boiling from spilling out. To a point.”

“Understood.” Sephiroth spoke instead of giving one of those ‘I hear you but I’m going to just nod instead of answer’ head tilts, then started watching the pot intently for some reason.

“About when the water starts frothing, stir the noodles so they don’t stick together.” Scarlet left him to it for the other parts of lunch/dinner/whatever, the weirdo.

Who the hell tried to _watch_ a pot of water boil?

He checked his sauce, stirring it as it thickened with another wooden spoon that had never been touched before. Wasn’t _quite_ to the right consistency, so it was safe to start the meat.

Or it needed more cheese. It was a bit tricky to tell by sight.

About when Rhapsodos went off to answer the short knock at the door, _probably_ a Turk with another uniform for Hewley and not Veld since it would take a bit longer for the Director of Turks to take a half-day or whatever, the sauce was mostly finished and he turned the weird chicken-like-meat to cook the other half. “We’re looking for the point between being too firm and being mush for the pasta, Sephiroth. Generally ten or so minutes into boiling, but the rule is about when it’s curling around freely it’s ‘al dente’ and when you can easily squish the pasta against the side of the pot is ‘overdone’. You’ll want to pull it ‘al dente’, as the heat from the sauce will finish cooking it, then drain the water into the sink.”

“As I’ve never ‘squished’ pasta against a pot, Director, I am unsure about those directions.”

“…point. Here, flip. The sauce is done but just needs to stay warm and the chocobo just needs minding to avoid burning, don’t let it get more than tan or brown. Pull it-” Taking him literally at his word, the damn kid _flipped_ over Scarlet’s head and landed on his other side. “-off the heat before that. That was… kid, you could’ve just gone _around_ me.”

Sephiroth didn’t even blink at him, yet somehow seemed _eerily_ pleased with himself. _Just_ fucking like-

“You’ve been hanging around with Rhapsodos too much.” He informed him dryly, striving to ignore his migraine that suddenly surged with pain to distract the fuck out of him.

“I thought we were now calling him ‘Princess’?” Inquired the entirely too self-composed ass pleasantly, eyeing the two cooking items curiously.

“We won’t call him that at work, or at least we _shouldn’t_ , just like how you don’t really need to call me ‘Director’ in my own home. I’m not a ‘Director’ here. I don’t mind just ‘Scarlet’, Sephiroth.” The noodles didn’t squish yet, he didn’t think they had enough time in hot water to get there but it was always good to check. They _were_ mostly done, and after seeing how well they bent in the water Scarlet twisted off the heat and hauled the pot to the sink. “How’s it looking?”

“…slightly disgusting.” Sephiroth honestly informed him, now looking at the pink-ish center of the meat trying to cook through when in a whole chunk. “Is this truly edible?”

“Shockingly, it’s even somewhat good.”

Scarlet was going to fucking _murder_ Hojo. Who the hell didn’t let a kid eat one of if not the most _common_ and cheapest meats in the world?

The teen’s culinary experiences probably only came from the company cafeteria, and even if he _lived_ off the shit he would be the first to admit it was overcooked and bland as hell _._ He would _not_ remotely consider field rations as food. The dehydrated stuff was bad enough, but the ‘packaged’ sludge was worth throwing a revolt over.

He really _should’ve_ already murdered the fucking ass, he was close enough to do it. Fuck knew why Hojo was still alive by this point… other than his own cowardice in not doing it yet.

“Take the sauce off the heat, it’s probably done now.” However it turned out, the basic part was done aside the additional seasoning it probably needed.

Pepper. Pepper was a lie now, and he bitterly missed it.

Maybe peppercorn just hadn’t been found yet?

He could hope.

It would still be stupidly termed a ‘green’, or maybe shoved in the catch-all category of ‘nut’ for legumes or actual nuts.

A teenager thundered down the stairs, proving Rhapsodos was _utterly_ incapable of not being a dramatic flouncy _brat_ regardless if he had an audience or not. Surprisingly, only a few steps got trampled loudly before the kid exclaimed an honestly surprised, “ _Director!”_

That wasn’t him Rhapsodos was shouting about, so Veld showed up for whatever the hell this meal was intended for.

“Scarlet. You’re awake.”

“Yes, I _know_. It’s been forty-some hours now, _whatever_. You better have that fucking knife, Verdot, or I’m going to get you to pull it all apart by hand.” Exactly as he expected, the Turk handed over a throwing knife rather than anything else. “Besides, I’m home. Fuck you and the chocobo you rode in on.”

Sephiroth turned to look at him blankly as the older man pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation behind them. “…what?”

“Means I don’t accept his ‘high’-handed authority.” Scarlet clarified as he set aside the pot of noodles and rescued the meat to cut into strips to finally cook evenly. “Someone riding a chocobo is ‘high’, and if you don’t bother to get off one to talk to a guy on the ground then you’re being ‘high-handed’. Arrogant.”

“Then why not just state such?”

“Less fun that way.” Wagging his borrowed knife over a shoulder for a second at the snickering going on in the background, he shot a pointed look at the younger redhead. “Either you’re setting the table or doing the dishes, Princess. You get to pick.”

“That’s going to get old _really_ fast, you decrepit fossil.”

“Nice comeback, kid. You poured the playground sand out of your boots before you waltzed in here, yeah?”

“I’m not matching wits with a _crazy_ man. That’d be picking on a one-armed opponent who’s already blindfolded.”

“And the _fact_ you’re losing…?”

Rhapsodos scoffed, but he was already pulling plates he hadn’t ever seen before out of a cupboard like a good kid. “ _Losing?_ Me? _There are no dreams, no honor remains. The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess._ I’m not picking on an old crazy lunatic, that’d be just _sad_.”

“Again, _Princess_. Lunar, addict. Lunatic. Not moon-crazy.”

“Scarlet, _shut up_.” Veld interjected, sounding like he was in a bit of pain by something. “ _Why_ are you _cooking?_ You haven’t used a kitchen in _years_.”

“…are we counting campfires in that?”

“ _No._ ”

“Speaking of,” turning around now that Sephiroth had the meat sizzling away under a carefully cautious eye, Scarlet waved the throwing knife at Veld pointedly, “ _why_ do I have groceries, Verdot? Furthermore, _why_ do I have pots and pans? Or dishes? Or _anything?”_

“Because, as Katana informed me, this place was absolutely _depressing_ with just your things here.” Pressing a few fingers against the side of his temple, which elected an answering throb from his own migraine that was lurking in the back of his mind like the nasty bomb it was, the Turk sighed heavily. “Also, mostly due to fruitless desire to ensure you didn’t accidentally eat something _not_ edible before your morning cup of coffee. Not that you _ever_ eat something before drinking entire pots of coffee.”

That sounded depressingly true, and he discarded the throwing knife to the sink with a metallic clatter to cross his arms over his chest a bit petulantly. “I might have to give you the latter point. _Might._ ”

“How _gracious_ of you.”

“I _am_ paying for all this, right?”

Veld gave him a _look_ as Rhapsodos fetched silverware and a much quieter teenager made his way down the stairs. “Scarlet, I can’t afford your habits. _No one_ can afford your habits. _You_ only afford your habits and then some with the accumulated overtime you clock up in a month and the fact you _never buy anything_.”

“…I buy coffee.”

Sephiroth pulled the chicken-like meat off the hob now it all was no longer pink anywhere, curiously looking over to the Turk over it as Scarlet checked it for done-ness. “Is arguing with him as aggravating as I suspect?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Hey.” Scarlet blandly stated, without much care that they were talking about him when he went through all the effort to make whatever the fuck the meal was going to cover for each of them. “Also, you all are getting kicked out after you eat. I’ve got a migraine to carter to.”

His best friend sighed heavily, but noticeably didn’t get up from the table as the various pots were ferried to it and dumped into the pasta pot to be mixed up under his direction. “Then why aren’t you _asleep_ yet, Scarlet?”

“You and I both know sleep doesn’t help me, Verdot.”

Veld stared at him for a long moment as Hewley finally joined them in a fresh uniform and with dripping hair, making him suspect that either he answered the wrong question the guy intended to ask or the answer didn’t satisfy him.

Whoops?

His head hurt too much to really care he hadn’t answered anything the Turk wanted to know. “Right, kids. And freeloader. Dinner, lunch, whatever the fuck. Eat and get out… _after_ someone does the fucking dishes, cause I ain’t.”

<<◊>>

“...that’s _good,_ right?”

“I’m going to _strangle_ him.”

Reeve cautiously patted the head of the Turks on an arm, hoping he didn’t get his hand snapped off at the wrist for daring to. “It took barely two days this time and he wasn’t ‘forgetful’, this _is good_. Right?”

“Less than, Tseng reported Scarlet actually recognized him.” Verdot informed him icily, staring into the far distance with nearly visible irritation. “This changes nothing, I am still going to wring his scrawny neck for worrying me.”

He wisely decided to keep his mouth shut instead of asking if the man meant for the whole eight and some years the Turk had been worrying after his friend, or just for the impromptu dinner-night in the middle of the day that Scarlet had been surprisingly lucid for.

Even if, by ‘established patterns’, the Director of Advanced Weaponry shouldn’t have _been_ lucid for it yet. Weeks long ‘episodes’, not _days_.

Rhapsodos had yet again been there, perhaps there _was_ something about the younger SOLDIER that jury-rigged the man’s mind back into place… but that wouldn’t really account for the younger Turk’s report of being recognized from even earlier. Perhaps just a sign of how well Scarlet’s mind had healed?

“I don’t think your ‘patterns’ work anymore.” Reeve informed him instead, tucking his hand back under the long table as the minutes ticked down until they had company. “This _is_ a good thing.”

From the _venomous_ look shot at him, he could guess the head Turk was not as sure.

Then the doors to the Executive meeting room was flung open, and Heidegger fairly marched in as the Director of Urban Development pretended he had not been trying to reassure the head of the Turks and formally the head of the General Affairs Auditing Division. 

Reeve was pretty sure his timid ‘public’ smile would, as per usual, get him dismissed from mind as the other Director instead focused on the fairly and visibly irate Turk. While he had reports on this morning’s activation of Reactor Five to give tonight, he was pretty sure no one but Verdot would actually listen to him.

At least he’d get to see his friend tomorrow.


	8. Chapter 8

The second bit of weirdness was… well, himself.

After the requisite four hours of trying to sleep with a migraine and the customary two hours of pure nightmares that chased him out of bed, it was totally and nicely dark at least. Scarlet opted to do something instead of sit in bed with swimming images of an unearthly painful green chasing itself around his already aching head, so he took a hot shower.

Hewley was a _very_ polite young man, even if he dumped hell house monster gunk down his drains. The bathroom was spotless, no orange-red-purple goo splattered anywhere from either what covered him or the wipe down he gave the Buster Sword before joining the rest of them for the meal. He hoped the teenaged SOLDIER planned on polishing that sword when he got to his own place, hell house innards could _eat_ through metals bewilderingly quickly even after most of it had been ‘obviously’ removed.

However, in the shower Scarlet couldn’t ignore that he had hair down to his ass and he was… thin.

Blacksmiths, no matter the body type or if they were/weren’t overweight, had muscles. It was, in a world where blacksmithing was a legit career and not mostly a hobby, a universal truth no matter the guts on the fat ones or literally no other body mass anywhere else on the rail thin ones. Hitting hot metal over and over again trying to get a specific shape or thickness with a hammer that was hefty enough to be used for it built up arm/shoulder muscles to a frightful degree. Sometimes back muscles too, depending on the height of the anvil/forge.

Scarlet kind of loved his food, you could only eat grilled fish for so long before you started craving other things. He did it for nearly twelve years, and while he didn’t mind a bit now and again he would flip a fucking table if someone expected him to go even a week on almost nothing but the shit.

He hadn’t ever been _fat,_ thank you very much. He never could overtake the rate his body burned everything from a high physically demanding job added in with monster hunting or long days of nothing but walking somewhere new, and somedays there honestly hadn’t _been_ much to eat aside possibly poisonous monster meat he always had to be very cautious of.

The last time he had been this gangly thin, he had been a brat just handed a fucking _spear_ and told he was going to learn how to use it to keep everyone safe.

Scarlet squinted through the shower spray at his left forearm, and the puckered scar on the inside.

…wrong angle to have been self-inflicted, thank _fuck_.

Too big to have been a knife, looked kind of like some blunt claw or horn gouge. Almost directly _into_ him, with only an angle on the thinnest part nearest his thumb.

Well shit, how far did he let himself _go?_

By that _fucking_ Goddess, the _moment_ -

Blinking water out of his eyes as he nearly face-planted into his own bathtub, Scarlet ground the heel of his left hand into his eye socket and bitterly _swore_ for a full minute as his entire brain throbbed painfully.

He then found his stupidly long hair again.

At least his hair wasn’t naturally curly, mostly straight until enough length showed there were gradual kinks of waves in it. Which just translated to about thirty minutes of trying to work them out with a comb when he finally hauled his ass out of the shower, and he bewilderedly wondered just _when_ it had been when he decided to not cut it to _get_ this length.

Hopefully, he could build something to go back in time and fucking smack himself one for it.

The whole thing was a fire-hazard. Hair was _hilariously_ and easily flammable, and… yet… it was still down to his ass. Scarlet knew himself well enough to know he couldn’t go all that long before tinkering with hot metal to improve or redesign something _without_ all those Goddess-be- _damned_ useless flourishes, so apparently he was now good enough to keep long hair safe while blacksmithing.

He was just not certain he _wanted_ to.

Kind of a pain in the ass, and not just because he probably needed half a bottle of shampoo to keep the whole thing clean.

…okay, a little under a _fifth_ of a bottle. Still stupidly wasteful, but odds were it was just him wasting so much soap not the hair.

Absently rinsing out his brass-toned reddish strands practically reaching his knees when he bent forward for the spray to reach all of it, which honestly wasn’t that far off of Rhapsodos’ orange-red but at least he was still solidly _red_ in tone, he wondered just… _how_ long had it been?

He wasn’t stupid.

His brain was skipping, like an old broken record player from another lifetime. He lost his train of thought, yes. Frequently, and then his migraine got a boost and made him bitterly regret thinking about whatever wondering he was on.

At least the gears were still working, even if nothing was remotely smooth yet. It might be missing teeth still and not remotely fucking stable at all, but it _worked._ Somewhat.

If he didn’t have loose skin from a rapid loss of weight from what he _vaguely_ thought he should look like, it probably had been _years_. Years he couldn’t account for. He couldn’t even figure out where his memories just _stopped_ , nor what he had done _yesterday_ much less some months ago.

His scars didn’t exactly tell him much, he had scars from both working a forge and monster hunting. There weren’t a whole lot of _alarming_ ones, aside the one on his arm he already identified as a recent monster scar. Most of the fading scars on his hands and arms were from things he could recognize as common hazards in blacksmithing or fiddling with various sharp tools and slipping with them.

…Scarlet had never been _clumsy_ before, and he didn’t particularly like needing to assume that was probably likely right now.

One last scrub against his scalp, and he wrenched the water off before it got any cooler.

Time to go annoy the shit out a Turk… _after_ he combed through this fucking mess and Veld got his ass to work for the day. The next day. Whichever.

 _And_ his coffee. Couldn’t forget coffee.

Maybe something to eat too, since he had all that food and it might just give his best friend a heart attack. Hopefully not _too_ badly, but if Scarlet was right and what he told him last… earlier?

What Veld had told him earlier today.

If he broke from his ‘normal’ routine maybe the Turk wouldn’t have a coronary when he informed his _best fucking friend ever_ that he remembered possibly a chunk of their previous conversations and didn’t need him to go through all of it yet again. A lot of them just repeated information anyways.

He might for a current reference, of course. Not that he _required_ the information to understand he put Veld in charge of his life because Scarlet couldn’t trust himself to do it without ending up doing something stupid.

<<◊>>

A few pills of Remedy were planted on his worktable, at his elbow. “Swallow them.”

A second of staring at the purplish-red stuff blankly, Scarlet did so with a sip of very cold coffee he had probably forgotten about for a few hours. He might not know why he needed them, but Veld did.

The drug practically _ate_ his migraine after a shockingly few silent minutes, not to the point of being _gone_ but enough so he maybe possibly couldn’t make it worse by leaving his darkly lit shop floor anymore. “Huh.”

“No, you will _only_ get them from me Scarlet.”

“Sure.” See, he had been _smart_ to put the guy in charge of himself. Veld likely knew the right dosage and how not to let him overdose on them. Turning on the little stool to look at the Turk head on, he raised an eyebrow at his special ops inclined best friend. “So, hi. Good morning and all that shit. Verdot… _how long has it been?”_

Veld stared him down for a few achingly long seconds. “I’ll only tell you _once_ , Scarlet. Will you remember this time?”

“I haven’t the _fucking foggiest_ clue.”

“Then we’ll wait.”

…he probably deserved that. Fuck knew having the _exact same_ conversation repeatedly had to get old fast. “I have very large, painful, apparently obvious holes in my memories.”

“I know.” The asshole that knew everything informed him blandly.

“My brain skips, Verdot. I’m thinking about one thing then suddenly I don’t know what the hell I was thinking with a very strong surge of pain trying to kill me as my migraine gets worse.”

The Turk of Turks pulled out another stool set under a different workbench to perch on. “That is… admittedly new.”

“If something I knew in the last couple years gets shoved in my face, I’ll remember. If I do otherwise it is pretty sketchy still.”

“Do you know who Tseng is, Scarlet?”

“…your… not-a-rookie. Joined five or some years ago. Wutai-native, and I’m apparently a complete ass to him for some reason he’s not rightfully irked about.” Scarlet reported absently, wincing as his battered memory reordered itself to make more sense rather than be a jumbled mess of impressions and mostly forgotten snippets that repeated entirely too often. Strong enough pain to override the few bits of Remedy seeping into his system, which was weird as the drug wasn’t a painkiller in the first place. “That kind of really hurts, Verdot.”

Remedy could treat confusion, though. Monster or mako-based confusion, as well as a laundry list of other unnatural statuses. His migraine was not natural, or enough so that Remedy was a valid treatment.

Smart man, he hadn’t even _remembered_ Remedy was a thing.

“You got a kid yet?”

“We’re talking about _you_ , Scarlet. I’ve had very few answers for an exceedingly long time, I would like some.”

While he totally deserved more than ‘I don’t remember’, Scarlet literally had nothing but to give. “…is Rufus okay? Does he… know?”

Veld, who looked _entirely_ too old for what he remembered but then again he did too, sighed heavily and glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. “Rufus is perfectly fine, and yes he knows. He was the one that did the research to help us understand _what_ happened to you, Scarlet. He had the greater reach for the apparently not well understood phenomena.”

“I had a psychotic break.”

“Yes, _we know_. Every time you remember more, Scarlet, you make a point of informing me. The term did not encompass everything or even inform me of what I would need to know.”

Guiltily tapping the tips of his mildly burned fingertips together, he eventually had to shrug helplessly for the other man. “Because I knew, if _you knew_ , it would be for the best and you’d keep everything okay as I would be completely useless. I’m _sorry_ , Verdot.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Doesn’t change it.”

“No, I don’t suppose it would.” Veld admitted, regarding him a bit strangely. “How far back can you recall, Scarlet?”

“Not _nearly_ long enough, from the looks of things. A couple years, with how often things repeat I’m honestly not fucking sure of just what is or isn’t new to me or how long ago I can maybe dredge up. How old _am_ I?”

“Twenty-nine. As you would _know_ if you ever glanced twice at any news report or the dates on your paperwork, Scarlet.”

That would make Veld… thirty-one. They met when Scarlet had been fourteen, and he was about two years older than him. Meaning he was _missing_ about a grand total of nearly _ten years_ of time all together, discounting the possible two or three he did now recall in some capacity or whatever it was that happened to literally break his mind to tiny pieces.

There were _four_ years until the Wutai War would maybe end and everything got set in stone.

“I’m really, _pathetically_ glad you didn’t put off your own life even with my shit to handle for me.”

“It was only somewhat tricky.” His best friend probably understated severely, completely bland as he waited with the patience of someone waiting to get a bone set back in place. “I have a daughter, her name is Felicia. She’s still just barely a toddler, you haven’t missed much there.”

“…pretty name.”

“You’ve said that before as well.”

“I _did_ make your rings, right?” Scarlet questioned suspiciously, snatching the bit of glinting something suddenly tossed at his head to inspect.

“I am _not_ nearly so suicidal to have gone to a different smith, even if you’re a _blacksmith_ not a _ring smith_. You never said what metal it was before you slipped back to unresponsive, though when I got them priced the jeweler positively _blanched_ and claimed he couldn’t afford it. Care to explain?”

The tiny circle of interlacing leaves patterned metal wasn’t deformed any from however long of intermittent wear, so not gold or silver nor was it any brassy bright shade of a lesser precious metal alloy even if there was a streak of golden material right down the middle. The rest _was_ almost dark for metallic shades you could only appreciate fully in the inside of the band, but he knew it wasn’t full-metal or adamantium as those didn’t have the red and purple highlights within it. “…ah, a bit of ziedrich. The Eos alloy.”

“… _Scarlet!”_

“What?” Giving the man back his ring, which didn’t jog his memory or anything but he knew enough of the various elements to have ruled most everything else out and he knew what he was capable of at least, he merely shrugged indifferently. “What’s a bit of priceless, _otherworldly_ metal between friends? At least I did _that_ much. Hers is _prettier_ , right?”

“I hadn’t realized you could _do_ lace with metal, so yes. Eva was appreciative.” Veld glared at him as he sorted his ring back into an inner suit pocket, probably not where he hid it while working. “You _defaced_ -“

“ _Blacksmith._ I defaced _shit_ , I just said it was an _alloy_. I made it, probably a ring blank for yours and the rest melted into wires for hers. Even the raw _ingots_ to make enough of this for a pair of rings is expensive as all hell, yeah. I’m kind of impressed that a _jeweler_ realized what it was, it’s usually made into shields or bangles back when the recipe was widely known.”

Legendary bit of metal, once you stripped the adornment off the legend it _basically_ read like a recipe. Basically, too much vagueness to have been a direct one and in need of some substitution for unfamiliar terms referencing specific metals. Getting the ratios right and how hot each stage had to be was a _finicky_ bit of aggravation to meld the alloy together, and he spent _fucking ever_ on getting all the legend’s bits and refining the process before-

“I only vaguely recall there _was_ a wedding I attended for you a bit ago, man. Give me a break.”

He earned a sedately raised eyebrow as the Turk adjusted himself way too fast, but his head started to pound again as the partial dose of Remedy probably wore off. “How about no? You were a _useless_ best man.”

Again, he fully deserved that. Scarlet reached behind him to grab his entirely too long hair and shake it at his best friend. “When did _this_ happen? Do you know how fucking _flammable_ hair _is?”_

“Yes. I once had you grow a beard. You did not suit it and it charred almost completely off your face the next time you lit your forge.”

“…you _asshole._ I _told you_ I don’t _do_ facial hair well.” Everyone else apparently _could_ and wear them better than he ever could. He didn’t grow enough to be anything but patchy.

“You’re not cutting your hair, Scarlet.”

Why was he not cutting his hair?

Bewildered at how serious the Turk was about that, because apparently his hair length was a ‘for your health/wellbeing’ thing and he couldn’t _remotely_ see why it would be, he shoved it back over a shoulder. “…okay.”

Scarlet didn’t need to know, probably _couldn’t_ know with his head the way it was. Veld knew, and that was perfectly alright with him. “Why did I get a house?”

“You disturbed SOLDIER Hewley in the middle of the night with another of your damned nightmares. You decided to move and purchased the house yourself.”

Rubbing his face tiredly, he thought about it. “Hey, like… a while ago. There were monsters in the building. _How_ did AVALANCHE, a _Wutai_ -based resistance group a continent away currently fighting the troops, get into _Midgar?”_

“…I will always, _bitterly_ regret that you now have full use of your faculties without three-quarters of your memories.” Veld informed him blandly, without _one_ scrap of chagrin or reservation. “Not needing to think up reasonable explanations for you was moderately nice, while it lasted. You _always_ believe me when I claim an anti-Shin-Ra group is responsible for things, Scarlet.”

“Oh, _gee_. I _fucking wonder_ why?”

“Scarlet.”

“No, Verdot. I _do_ remember. That much, at least.” So… not AVALANCHE, but Rache probably knew better than he did what killed her very real niece. And who was responsible, better than Scarlet could. “I don’t _like it_ , obviously. But you _did this_ for a reason, and the very _fucking_ reason I keep telling you what’s wrong with me still holds true. It was for the best, what you _could do_ , and therefore I’ll deal with it whether I like it or not. I’ll still bitch about it regardless, but thanks.”

He’d never learn the truth, now. Hojo probably claimed he had a little bit of an ‘accident’, maybe to clear lab-specimen space or just to see what the SOLDIERs a couple floors below him did in response or just because he was a sick bastard. Scarlet never _did_ ask Sephiroth how or what was ‘causing’ the whole situation nor how he stopped it when the teenager returned his ID card, nor did he question why Veld had interfered about the jackass wanting to be included before the materia experiment.

He would _love_ to ‘little bit of an accident’ _Hojo’s fucking face._

By that _fucking_ Goddess, how the _hell_ did he work with the man without murdering him in cold blood?

About to ask that very question, the Director of Advanced Weaponry got a tiny bit distracted by the look Veld was giving him now. “…what?”

Reaching over and grabbing him by the back of the neck, the Turk pulled Scarlet forward. Probably so he couldn’t avoid his eyes or to impress something into his moderately faulty memory. “You _ever_ do this to me again, Scarlet, _I’ll_ strangle you and leave you dead in a ditch.”

“Okay, I deserve that.” He allowed for, trying _not_ to fall off his entirely inadequate stool and faceplant into the metal flooring. “Thank you?”

Veld gave him an unsettling reserved look.

“…fuck you very much?” Scarlet tried again, a _bit_ hesitant.

He got shoved backwards, back on his little stool as the Director of the General Affairs Auditing Division got up from his own. “We’ll see how long you remember this.”

Scarlet thought about it as the older man left him to it, realizing why Veld was so damn tired and reserved in front of him. He couldn’t _do_ anything about the reason, it was _himself_ that caused the Turk so much grief and until something outside his control changed then he would still be completely useless still.

He couldn’t even trust his own memories. If Veld had been getting his ass to settle down by repeatedly claiming AVALANCHE as a root reason for some years, who the fuck knew where in the **_Final Fantasy VII_** timeline he was when using events. He didn’t blame the Turk, he’d do the exact same thing in his place with the situation being as it was.

…Veld had a daughter, who was supposedly going to be experimented on in the coming years to the point she wouldn’t recognize her own dad.

Scarlet slid around to face his bench thoughtfully, sightlessly inspecting the bit of Mideel glass he had been working on. He had a couple more days to get that project done, despite how little he liked leaving one half-finished for the _second_ fucking time.

He didn’t know how long until Kalm went up in flames, or why. Just that it did and little Felicia wouldn’t be found for _years_.

Nudging the glass to one side of the deeply scarred and stained wood, he rummaged around his stocks of random metal parts and supplies for a length of suitable chain a young girl might think was ‘pretty’. While he might not be skilled in electronics as much as he was in reforging legendary alloys, he wasn’t half bad either given the time to learn and being a head of a Division with those smarter than him in it experimenting with just about everything under the sun and several hundred things not.

Something suitably childish the girl could hide, probably under her clothing. Necklace, not really a _remarkable_ one. The girl was still a toddler, and for another he didn’t want anyone thinking it would be worth the gil to take from her.

And, _just_ big enough for a tiny bit of a tracker. Heart-shaped, probably. Hollow enough for the electronics and a power source was easy, it was how a lot of those gaudy tourist crap jewelry was made just to save a tiny bit of money on each stamped out.

Veld would know, of course. Scarlet wouldn’t fucking _bother_ trying to hide it from him.

Besides, he owed it to the man.

<<◊>>

“Scarlet!”

“Reeve. Why are you shouting in my workshop?” Asked the man in question mildly curiously, curling something delicate and not really something you’d expect a weapons maker to create into a palm before turning around in his very dim room.

“I have the results from the materia manufacturing, young Rhapsodos finally finished identifying all we created now he’s back.” Then couldn’t tell the older redhead anything about their joint experiment for two days, he would admit to a bit of relieved excitement in finally getting to it with Scarlet again.

“What’s the breakdown?”

Not ‘how much materia is usable’ or ‘what can we send to the Infantry/SOLDIERs’, the Director of Advanced Weaponry wanted to know the actual results. Not remotely bothered he left the reporting of or deciding where the results went to Urban Development.

Had Scarlet been Palmer with an inquiry about how his rockets might be repurposed to do, Reeve probably would’ve been regulated to being a clerk at _best_ if involved at all. Not the one in charge of ensuring the paperwork was filed right or that all observational data compiled were in the right shape for later reference, therefore possibly able to ‘fudge’ the records in his favor, and he wouldn’t be the one reporting on the results to anyone.

 _Maybe_ allowed to observe, but probably not allowed to take one half of the experiment or oversee the resulting materia while the other Director took on rebuilding the equipment for another more refined try.

Scarlet appeared mildly perplexed when he beamed at him. “Reeve?”

“Do you know how _annoying_ it is being the youngest on the Executive Board?”

“That _was_ me before you got promoted.”

He grinned sheepishly, waving a file in his hands. “Well. How long until they actually paid you any attention in the meetings?”

“They _never_ did unless it was to argue I shouldn’t get so much gil for ‘insert reason here’, surprise. Unless they think they can use you for something to ‘further’ their grip or influence they’re _assholes._ ” Accepting the remarkably neat report Rhapsodos wrote for him on each of the materia he tested for them with one hand not clutching something, the older man glanced through them curiously. “You’re better off sticking with me and Verdot. Well, more him than me. I’m kind of useless sometimes.”

“You’re not _useless_.” Reeve insisted, earning barely a rise of one eyebrow as he kept on reading. “It’s not your fault.”

The man suddenly jerked his head up, giving a look that was more _through_ him than at. “Yeah, actually. Yeah it was.”

Speechless, he could only watch as Scarlet blinked suddenly and went back to reading as if he never said anything markedly alarming or interesting.

“What was your fault, Scarlet?”

Pausing with a finger between the pages bending them down to see the next, he got another more focused raised eyebrow as the other Director looked up again. “What?”

“You just said it was your fault.” He reminded the man cautiously.

“…I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Alarming, but as it had merely confused Scarlet after being brought up Reeve was entirely willing to let it go if he couldn’t elaborate. “Do you mind if I ask Director Verdot for your information? The patterns, and your records? Or what there might be of them?”

“I left it up to him for a reason. If he says yes, then feel free.” Still eyeing him cautiously, and with no little confusion still visible, the redhead handed the paperwork back. “So… I’m guessing Rhapsodos still made off with a Fire?”

“He did, the scamp. I’ve officially listed it as ‘on loan’ for the purposes of accountability.” Reeve would not be nearly so blasé when someone asked after his mental health, and he admittedly couldn’t really stop thinking about it. “Why doesn’t it bother you?”

Scarlet leaned backwards on his stool, giving his question some thought instead of keeping an entire skeptical audience off balanced with murderous quips and sly insinuation this time. “I think it did, once. But… after a while? Why bother getting upset? It wasn’t like I ever _remembered_ long enough, and I can be busy enough to not remotely notice how little I remembered. My memories keep _repeating_ , Reeve. After a while it became my ‘normal’.”

“How long it’s been doesn’t concern you now?”

“Couldn’t tell it was going on, and yeah I’m useless but I _knew…_ ” There was a weird, strange twitch before Scarlet suddenly refocused on him with a jarring shift in intensity. “Two Fires, an Ice, a Lightning, an Earth, four Restores, two Heals, and a Time isn’t too shabby. I wonder how we’d get specific materia? A Full Cure and a Shield would be nice mixed in. All Magic Materia, too.”

“If we don’t try to use gallons of mako, we shouldn’t have the same crystallization problems that ruined your last tank and can try to refine the process for specifics.” Reeve allowed for, tucking away that information to go with all the rest of it as he neatened the reports.

Verdot thought it was his fault. Scarlet obviously thought it was his.

Ridiculous of them both.

Possibly some things in their past could have been done differently, and it was entirely unfortunate no matter what. He might not find anything to help either man, but he knew full well that taking a step back and looking at a wider picture could help solve some seemingly insurmountable troubles.

The head of Weapons Development hummed, not remotely convinced. “We have a lot to do to isolate what caused that reaction, and how to not bust the tanks again. Reducing the scale might not give us any results, though I’d rather do this a drop at a time rather than risk my teams’ necks again.”

“Well, back to work then?”

Scarlet idly scraped the fingernails of his free hand down his neck, regarding him with bruised ringed blue eyes that still were as keenly aware as he had gotten used to instead of shockingly blank and mostly dull. “Guess so.”


	9. Chapter 9

The third bit of weirdness Scarlet noticed was… well, that he didn’t notice until it was over. Actually, _that he noticed_ was kind of weird too.

You’d _think_ you’d notice forgetting just about everything. Then again, that was the whole issue with forgetting in the first place. Bonus side-effect, his migraine had apparently run its course or died down enough he wasn’t wincing with every movement in front of his own face.

Suddenly staring at a Crystal Bangle from the Mideel glassmakers and the Mythril Bangle with still equipped materia he let Rhapsodos steal from him sitting on his worktable, the three SOLDIER teenagers bickering behind him as he delicately screwed the new clamps in place into the powdered mako crystal impregnated silver socket lining he dug out some couple days ago… was new.

Not new, maybe?

 _Would_ he know what was and wasn’t new?

He spent a moment trying to recall what the hell he had been doing before this, since he didn’t have much more than that before the silver cooled enough to not be as easily malleable.

Unable to come up with anything, he just continued fiddling with the tiny silvery rivets that would help hold a pyramid shape in a socket intended for a sphere firmly enough that it would work with the new linked slots design.

Linked from the ‘bottom’ of the sockets, not the side. When flipped over and equipped on an arm properly there was a little dark groove of stagnating mako within the transparent glass, which once ‘activated’ with materia the mako might light up.

Maybe he should make it ‘standard’?

Put in a redundancy line where slots had been ‘normally’ linked when he re-invented it just in case, and make the clamps universal for any shape you'd try to jam in. Just because he only knew of one oddly shaped materia for sure didn’t mean there weren’t others.

It needed to be done in this one now anyway, if Rhapsodos was going to deploy with Quadra. If it slipped from getting jarred around too much, then having to re-jam the materia back into place to be remotely usable in the middle of a pitched battle was stupid.

Suicidal-typed stupid.

Finally getting the last rivet head flattened enough to hold securely, Scarlet stripped the materia out of the other bangle and stuck them into place to be sure everything would at least hold in place if not work. Testing it was the kid’s responsibility before they went, but this should work better than just jamming the crystalized mako nub with one edge and hoping.

Whenever the SOLDIERs were due to deploy, he might’ve just lost a couple days like most people would forget their Goddess-be- _damned_ keys somewhere.

“Will you come, Director?”

“To?”

Rhapsodos looked only mildly expectant instead of as flighty and arrogant as he usually was, immediately slipping on the absently offered still warm glassy crystal on his right wrist like a materia-specialist he probably was. “To Junon, to see us off?”

“Genesis, he’s obviously a very busy man.” Hewley chastised like his most favorite SOLDIER ever, shooting Scarlet a very suspicious look that might mean the kid was fully aware of his mental slip a bit ago. “He likely has more important things to do than see the three of us off.”

“Like a materia manufacturing experiment? Pretty sure Reeve’s got the next test slotted the same day. Whichever day that was, might be today… besides, I’m not allowed outside of Midgar. Verdot’s order, so no.”

“Is there a reason for that, Scarlet?” Sephiroth inquired like a slightly too young asshole _he_ was, from the look of his features the teenager probably already knew full well why and what he had just ‘woke up’ from.

“If I have a, what Director Tuseti termed ‘episode’, _outside_ of Midgar and the reach of the Turks? I’m pretty sure we can all guess I’d probably end up doing something stupid. More stupid.” Pondering for a moment, because to be honest as fun as it was to pick on Rhapsodos he didn’t think he was that much of an asshole… he then suddenly twisted back around on his stool to investigate his many drawers. “Hewley.”

“…sir?”

There was, as he semi-expected and didn’t honestly recall making to specifications, a pair of plated and reinforced gloves made of blue dragonhide in the top middle drawer of his seemingly favorite workbench. They didn’t _need_ any slots, so it was as thin as realistically possible to still provide some armor to the thinnest part of a humanoid body and yet still flex with the complicated contours as needed for fingers to retain full range of movement.

Perfect for a SOLDIER that picked to use his fists rather than the Buster Sword.

He tossed them at the brunette, grey-almost-purple glowing eyes in his dim personal workshop widening in surprise as the kid caught them. “Do you know _how badly_ your hands will hurt if you break them on someone’s fucking _face?_ That kind of pain doesn’t heal fully. Don’t be stupid, fingerbones are disgustingly easy to shatter with the right angles and just enough force. You might be a SOLDIER and hardier than anyone else, but why risk it?”

Scarlet was still searching through his utterly _disgusting_ if long forgotten mess of leftover metal bits and ruined tools encrusted with dusty grime and didn’t need to look back to see what expression Hewley had or if he’d take the gloves or not, moderately sure without knowing there was something in here…

There was a dusty wooden box in the far back of his bottom-most left handed drawer.

While it was deep enough to contain whole containers of a modest size, he didn’t have an _earthly_ clue why he had a _wooden_ box in there and not a metal one. He also knew, full well without being able to put a finger on why, that it wasn’t _his_ wooden box. It was the shit he gave-

Sliding that drawer shut a bit carefully so nothing rattled or gave his renewed migraine more motivation to be a colossal pain, Scarlet swapped what side he was searching and found the package in the bottom-most _right_ -handed drawer.

Why that needed emphasis was beyond him, but probably so he didn’t forget where he put his shit again as it seemed he had some uncountable times before.

The Fire Materia wouldn’t be the only one from the manufacturing experimentation to be ‘on loan’ until the SOLIDERs decided otherwise, and Reeve fully agreed with him that another few should be given out to be made use of while they got things refined down to a science.

“Sephiroth… they may be idiots,” ignoring Rhapsodos muttering dire things about his continued if non-existent mental health, Scarlet equipped the manufactured Heal and Restore Materias into an unaltered Crystal Bangle sitting in the pile of them he had for some probably weird reason before handing it over to the seemingly blank but still moderately surprised SOLDIER, “but they’re now _your_ idiots. Make sure they don’t get their asses killed, you _are_ their more experienced senior who’s already been there before. One’s Restore, the Cure spell. The other is Heal, Posiona. They’re both unused, you’ll have to build them up yourself.”

“…indeed.” Agreed the teenager slowly, accepting the bangle delicately to slide onto his left arm to secure there.

“It’s borosilicate glass, the glassmakers of Mideel have had _centuries_ to refine and improve their glasswork into something not nearly as delicate as it looks. The crystal they make these days is about as durable as your stupidly oversized no-dachi. You could probably whack it against someone else’s blade without scuffing it, but as we’re not sure how stable the materia is yet please don’t try it.”

Unfortunately he sucked with glass, but he rather appreciated being able to bang out his mistakes rather than be forced to frequently restart a project from scratch every damn time it inevitably happened. Blacksmith suited him better than glassblower or craftsman.

Glowing, gleaming green eyes regarded him contemplatively for a moment. “You do not appreciate my sword, Director Scarlet?”

“It’s _your_ sword, I’m a spearman. I think all _three_ of you have stupidly oversized swords, just like you probably think my spear is an unwieldy and long pointy stick. Who cares? It’s still _your_ sword. If you like it and can _use it_ right, fuck my opinion.”

Now snickering as his stupidly short attention span for insults waned in favor of jumping on the new one with both feet, Rhapsodos grinned widely in his face as he ran thin fingers over his new bangle. “ _My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains._ Interesting time to come _back_ to us, Director… fuck your opinion indeed. _Elegantly_ crass of you.”

“I will never promise to be completely _sane_ , Rhapsodos. Kind of impossible, from the looks of it. And the three of you have work to do, ensuring all that shit works right for you. Off you go.” Once the three of them filed out with more attention on their random assortment of equipment than him, Scarlet tilted his head backwards and addressed the ceiling. “Yes, Verdot. I’m ‘awake’ again. That’s _still_ a fucking _stupid_ code-word.”

<<◊>>

“I apologize.” Knife informed his back blandly, lying through her teeth skillfully like all Turks learned to do before long and he didn’t even have to look to see it.

Scarlet tilted his head back to show he heard the two come in and her, fruitlessly trying to recall if she had done anything that needed to be but again unable to think of anything past the dull ache already lurking back there. “Okay. _Why?”_

“I broke your fragile little mind, again.”

Snagging the necklace he made for Veld’s daughter from under a random grease rag pulled from who knew where, he turned around fully to see the Turk-girl and the Turk of Turks very pointedly and firmly holding her still in the middle of his workshop. “One, I don’t fucking recall _anything_ you’d need to apologize for so that’s pretty pointless. For another, _I’m_ not the one that needs an apology. I don’t live with my own forgetful ass. Most days, it seems I don’t remember shit at all.”

That made a dent in Knife’s mulish attitude, and she glanced to the side where Veld had a hand clamped on her usually neatly attired shoulder. “…sorry, sir.”

Veld ignored her, now staring flatly at Scarlet with enough of what he could identify as exasperation.

“If no one knows what happened to me, Verdot, then things need to be poked. Whatever it was, _maybe_ could’ve been poked without so much… whatever it was. Either way, now you know. And you kind of need to know, I won’t remember.” Lifting the necklace, which was probably _the_ simplest thing he ever made by hand, he let it hang from a finger so the Turks could see it. “Tracker necklace, for little you-know-who. I’m never making jewelry again, the fiddly shit. You’ve got enough now.”

His best friend pressed his mouth together into a flat line but accepted the bit of cheap brass jewelry to pocket away until he did whatever with it. Hopefully give it to his baby girl, after hooking his own equipment up with the little signal device because he _was_ both a dad and a highly suspicious man.

Knife took advantage of the silence, pinning him with a highly suspicious glare. “Why did you pick _our_ Director?”

“If you suddenly woke up after apparently a long time, not able to remember what you were doing or why the hell you were in a cell staring at _your_ best friend through the bars… who would you pick to fix what could be fixed and keep you from fucking up everything? Besides, Verdot wasn’t a Director then.”

It took a couple seconds for the knife-fighting Turk from Corel to accept that, though with how well Scarlet knew Turks he could easily see she wasn’t remotely fond of him still nor really liked the situation.

Fair enough, he didn’t think any of them really did.

“So… were you trained _with_ Rache, or did you train _her?”_

Knife gave him a single raised eyebrow, regarding him silently with pure grey eyes for a few seconds before she decided on if she’d answer or not. “We trained _together._ ”

“Knew it.” Huffing with amusement, he slanted a sideways look at his best friend who finally released his field-capable Turk to go off or stay as she would. “Really?”

Instead of being remotely bothered to be caught red-handed trying to set up his terminally forgetful best friend with a girl, Veld simply neatened his dress shirt’s cuffs under his suit jacket. “If things had continued without change, Scarlet, you wouldn’t have recalled her at all. She was rather insistent it might just help give you a reason to pull yourself out of it.”

“Yeah… I don’t need a girlfriend to break the heart of. Repeatedly and without any clue I’m doing it. I’m enough of a mess without the help, thanks.” This seemed to earn him Knife’s forgiveness, and he wasn’t asking nor did he really want to know why. “How are your knives working out? Does the design suit you or would you like something different?”

“We’ve had this conversation, Director.”

“I don’t recall the answers, Knife. Humor me.”

“I like the tips are sharpened on both sides, even the fact you left me a thicker spine than most throwing knives which means the handles _are_ heavier to balance it. I’ve adapted to them. And yes sir, you made me enough extras I can swap out and spread out the wear and tear on my weapons to prevent them breaking as fast.” Rattling it all off entirely too quickly to be anything but a well-rehearsed spiel, she tugged on the hems of her white gloves to adjust their fit before glancing over at Veld. “Again, Director. I’m sorry about that. At least he _seems_ more stable now.”

“I’d rather him _not_ go back to being _un_ stable, Knife.”

Mildly amused, Scarlet just watched as the young woman nodded shortly but with enough emphasis her bangs swung around into her face with the movement.

“I will go back to my duties now, Director.” She glanced once at him as she turned, unfettered and free to leave some time ago. “Headcase.”

Snickering, he turned back to the springs and mako crystals he was experimenting with for new angles in bangle designs. “Spirited little lady you got there, Verdot.”

“Shut up, Scarlet.” Veld sounded distracted, and there was the faint tinkle of ‘tiny moving metal against a harder metal surface’ that he could sightlessly identify as a chain against a hollow pendant with only an educated guess. “Rather… plain, for you.”

“You know me man, I _hate_ frills and useless adornments. Engraving, sure. Filigree? Only if I _really_ fucking have to. Inlays aren’t too bad, and motifs are so ingrained to be expected so sure why not? Besides, I wanted to be sure it’d be overlooked as a cheap something anyone that stupid wouldn’t think to sell rather than something far more important.”

“…the chain will be easily snapped.”

“I can make a much thicker one, but it’ll look weird.” That _did_ kind of remind him… of something. “I can do a braided chain, maybe? With tin, or aluminum. Probably aluminum. Still cheap looking and goes well with a brass adornment, but more durable even if aluminum is pretty weak for a metal itself… do I _have_ a chain drawplate?”

He did, which had the wire gauges in the same plate of probably-mythril metal already scorched around a few holes and well-used from the look of the larger chain draws and the sooty clamp marks around the edges. It had gotten buried behind a workbench under something that collapsed off his wall some time ago, not his seemingly favorite wooden topped one but one of the others closer to the cold forge just waiting in the back of the room.

“Braided chain is _equally_ as finicky as jewelry, you owe me a coffee.”

Veld gave him a _supremely_ unmoved eyebrow, tracking pendant in his palm now. “I didn’t say _anything_ but observed a weakness in the design. You took it upon yourself, Scarlet.”

“You’re not the one that’s going to be looping wire around and around itself again five times for a single link all night, man.”

“You drink _more_ than enough as it stands. I _might_ order you some takeaway from the city if it takes that long, you opportunistic cheapskate.”

Scarlet put the draw plate down on the workbench nearest his forge, needing to find enough aluminum wire of at least a thick gauge to draw down finer or melt an ingot to make it all from scratch first anyways. “Why do I now have a coffee addiction? I don’t remember when it started, and like fuck I could afford it before all this.”

“It occupied you, and the habit restricted your routine to something more predictable. _Anything_ that occupied you was worth it to me, until we could establish a routine for you to follow.”

“…I was that much of a handful?”

“If I didn’t know perfectly well it wasn’t _your_ choice to do any of it, I would’ve shot you through the head.” The Turk confirmed darkly, tucking the necklace away again to a different pocket inside of his suit. “You, Scarlet, are a pain in the ass.”

“Didn’t really _get_ one.” He muttered wryly, around the _absolutely blinding_ sudden kick of his migraine attempting to make his head explode for the hell of it apparently.

“…and you know this? For sure?”

The Turk asked a question, so he grit his teeth and answered. “That’s about _all_ I know. I didn’t want to, so I refused. That’s the problem. What choice I didn’t get or what I didn’t want to do is… gone. Out of my reach. I don’t know. Fuck, man. That _really_ hurts.”

Veld gripped him by the entirely too thin shoulders, turning him around _oh so_ carefully to face his best friend no matter how much he cringed as the light beyond his workroom attempted to cheerfully blind him. “Scarlet. In the years _since_ , _no one_ has come after you. I would’ve known if anyone was trying to force you to do something. Does that not mean you’re free of whatever it was?”

“…is that offer to shoot me through the head still on the table?”

“ _Scarlet!”_

“I _don’t_ know. I don’t know what _else_ to _do_ , Verdot. There’s… I _can’t_ do anything.”

“Can’t or _won’t?”_

He eyed his best friend with alarm, no matter the migraine that meant he should keep his eyes closed. “Why would you ask me to _do that?”_

“Do _what_ , Scarlet?”

“…I don’t remember.” At least Veld wasn’t asking him to do it. That was something. Relieving, it was _relieving_. “You know… what the price of failure used to be? Before? Not just failure, _refusal?_ Outright _abandonment_ of one’s duties?”

“Execution, usually.” Offered the Turk of Turks suspiciously, eyeing him with something that wasn’t concern or wariness but a rather wretched grimness.

“Off with the head.” Scarlet probably agreed on things he didn’t fully understand while the pain built up to levels he wasn’t sure he’d survive, wryly. This was still important, _Veld needed_ to know so fuck the pain. “Bit literal, ain’t it?”

“There is no _physical_ reason we could find for this, Scarlet. I know everyone that ever spoke with you in the last decade, none of them had any reason to pressure you into anything you wouldn’t want to do either.”

“Yeah… that’s _also_ a problem. Kind of tangential, but well… we _all_ have it.”

Releasing his entirely too strong grip on him, Veld rubbed his forehead tiredly. “That makes _no_ sense, Scarlet.”

“Sorry.” He might not be _sure_ of why he needed to say that, but at least he knew that much. “I don’t remember what we’re talking about, Verdot.”

“…I am unsurprised. How is your head?”

“Feels like I got kicked in the face by a chocobo again.”

He got kicked in the face by a chocobo once?

Did it happen more than once?

He didn’t _think_ so, but then again it wasn’t like he knew. Known?

Scarlet got distracted from the wonder of how exactly he was supposed to fucking phrase things he did or didn’t know about himself now by a couple purple-ish-reddish pills being shoved under his nose, and while he didn’t know why he was being given them at least Veld did so he swallowed them dry.

…oh, right. Remedy worked on his migraine.

“You will-“

“Only get them from you, I know. I’d overdose, you know what the right amount is.”

“I didn’t inform you of that.”

“I worked it out. Pretty obvious. What was I doing?”

A heavy sigh drew his attention back to his best friend, who was pinching the bridge of his nose while he got distracted with a wire/chain drawplate. “Scarlet.”

“…yes?”

“I appreciate your attempt to remember for me.” With that confusing as fuck comment, Veld turned to exit his dimly lit workroom without waiting for a response he didn’t have. “You claimed to be able to make a braided wire chain, from aluminum. To replace a weaker one without looking too out of place-”

“On the tracker I made for you. Right. I remember now.”

<<◊>>

Reeve got there _early_ , again. He knew he was irritating the Director of the General Affairs Auditing Division by being eager for something he never _wanted_ to attend before, but this was a question he had for quite a while now.

If Scarlet had an impulsive murderous instinct to take Professor Hojo’s life to the point when he wasn’t coherent at all he would try to attempt it without anything else in his hands, _how in Gaia_ did Verdot prevent the man from lunging across the table to throttle the Director of Science and Research when they were in any kind of proximity?

The Turk was already present, exactly three seats away from the end of the long meeting table where the President liked to rule over the either weekly or bimonthly depending Executive Board Meetings. Scarlet had the seat at the very end of the same side, hemmed in by his best friend one seat away on one side and probably old Shin-Ra himself when he arrived.

It really did answer ninety percent of his questions, but Reeve _was_ a social engineer. And several others, but those didn’t tend to be used in situations like this. “Good evening, Directors.”

“Hey Reeve.” Absently spoke the redheaded weapons maker, a forearm across his eyes and leaning back in his chair far enough to be forced to balance on only the rear two legs with one of his own hooked over the corner of the table for extra stability. “You’re early.”

Verdot gave him an unsettling blank stare as he picked a seat across from them but offset enough so he wouldn’t have to sit directly next to another not-yet-arrived Director.

“Yes, well. You see, I’ve… have absolutely no reason.”

Pulling his arm, and himself, more upright the Director of Advanced Weaponry peered at him from under his own limb. “How far is Sector Seven out from being completed?”

Seizing on the offered topic gratefully, he delightedly explained. “It’s only slightly behind production schedule, we’re having some trouble getting the plates in a thickness to avoid bowing under the weight of both any kind of residences or commercial properties and the proposed highway. The under struts should be in place within the next two months, but the plate itself might not be finished until next year.”

“Yeah… that’s why people _usually_ build shit on the _ground_ , Reeve. It comes with its own support.”

“Why how _unambitious_ of you, Scarlet.”

The man snickered, dropping his arm back over his eyes and letting himself lean even farther back. “Yeah… unambitious. Three-gil word there, Reeve. How about… what else is currently being built? Five?”

“Four, actually. Should be done by the end of the year with its priority over Seven. Though we did turn on Reactor Number Five recently.”

“Should help with the foundries under the plate work up the plating you’re missing.” Scarlet mused aloud, feebly flopping the hand attached to the arm shading his eyes. “But that much raw metal… we’re probably running low. There’s a _titanic_ amount already laid down, and more yet to go.”

“I’m afraid we drove up the price of iron and steel rather high, buying as much as we did.” Reeve admitted to sourly. “If we’re going to need to buy more, it’s going to be steep.”

“We made the iron miners rich, you mean.”

“The _owners_ of those iron mines, maybe.”

Shockingly, the weapons maker/blacksmith snickered. “I _know_ most of those mine owners, Reeve. They work the mines just as their men do. I can probably put you in touch with a fair few of them that’ll just _love_ to take Shin-Ra money for an only _marginally_ inflated iron price.”

The Turk exactly an empty seat away from him sighed in aggravation. “ _Some_ of them. Scarlet, you _barely_ remember anything like how a _phone_ _works_. You never sent them any letters in the past few years, much less ever since _leaving_ their regions.”

“I know the _good_ ones. They’re not going to care. It’s not how miners and blacksmiths work, I’m not their regular customer so getting the nod from me for their ore quality even years later is a _complement_. Means they stick out in my mind over their competition.” Predicted the man confidently. “And, unless I misjudged a lot of their various brats, if they died to accidents or monsters their heirs are cut from mostly the same cloth. Face it, Verdot. _My_ connections even a decade out of date is _better_ than that shitty old man’s.”

Verdot drummed the fingers of his right hand on the glossy table they were waiting at. “…Palmer currently controls the negotiations for raw ores, since you were not always fit to do the negotiations.”

Scarlet burst out laughing, not _remotely_ bothered he tipped over and hit the ground in a heap. “Oh! Oh by that _fucking_ Goddess, no! Tell me it isn’t _so!”_

“You know… I had actually forgotten you are disgustingly religious.”

“ _I_ know better than to piss off entities I know nothing about by doubting them.” Dragging himself upright, with a furrowed brow and thinly open eyes, the proclaimed blacksmith in an already wrinkled suit he wore with ill-ease regarded his upended seating choice with mild irritation. “Can’t I just-“

“No.”

“…fine.”

Reeve interlaced his fingers and hid his smirk behind them by planting his elbows on the table.

Verdot cornered his best friend in so he couldn’t move freely, at least when he was ‘saner’. It wasn’t anyone else at risk from the stretches of ‘absentness’, as he was already informed the man would ‘mind’ the presence of others and their safety then it was possible just _bodies_ in the way would probably prevent murder from occurring.

There was only a slight chance Hojo would be pried from his labs for the meeting, and since he had never noticed the second-youngest man in the room had uncontrollable murderous impulses at all it was likely when the scientist did pry himself out it was _only_ in Scarlet’s few if becoming more common stretches of sanity and not when he was… not himself.

“So, votes to wrestle raw metal negotiations from Director Palmer to myself with Director Scarlet providing contacts and oversight?”

Finally muscling the heavy wing-back chair upright again, the Director of Advanced Weaponry shot him a remarkably Nibel wolfish grin for the mostly joking suggestion. “Seconded.”

The Director of General Affairs Auditing gave him another of those petrifying level stares.

“Come on, Verdot. It’ll _save money_ , _and_ foster goodwill with the little people. Might give Wallace and Dyne out in Corel reassurance their coal will still be needed for smelting and a nudge to get that Reactor negotiations underway instead of stalling out.”

“ _How_ , a decade _later_ , are you _still_ a decent choice?”

“Because I’m a halfway decent fucking person, that’s how.”

Verdot glared at the unrepentant man to his left, then cut a glance over to Reeve. “Very well then. I will support you in your bid, Director Tuseti. Chief Heidegger will be somewhat simple to manipulate into assisting us, leave it to me.”


	10. Chapter 10

The fourth… or was it fifth?

Well.

The next strange thing to Scarlet was that he _knew_ the series of events that left him holding an _ugly as sin_ mug. Could remember each step and fully be aware of why himself without needing a prompt or two or a full explanation for once.

Weird didn’t always mean it was bad, just… different. He liked this difference.

A lopsided, _deep_ , clunky mug with a rather professional-looking handle melded into the clay before it was turned into pottery. There was a bulge in the thing’s wall on one side, could almost be used as a spout to pour out of rather than just a container for liquid to drink from. All of it, from the handle to the outside and under the mug to even the inside, was a riot of rainbow colors that sometimes bled into one another and made a complete muddy brown mess in spots.

There was block lettering on both sides that was significantly neater, and no matter the curved surface he knew Veld’s handwriting well enough to know he wrote the ‘Warning: Asshole’ on it in stark black.

All that was under a coat of glaze or whatever pottery people did to cement their designs to their work without it bleeding or just dripping off.

Well, past the point its colors already had dripped before getting cemented under the professionally neat, glossy coating.

It was _adorable_ , hilarious, and Scarlet… couldn’t trust himself with it. “Verdot, I don’t want to break it.”

“Leave it at home, you don’t break anything if not surprised or unless your migraines make you flinch.” The Turk of Turks was busy with his own paperwork for the crack of a new Midgar dawn, obviously not giving him a clunky ugly mug in return for the little cheap brass tracking necklace he made for his daughter. A mug his _wife and daughter_ probably made in thanks, because he couldn’t even _process_ the image of the always neatly attired and fastidious man he called a best friend with clay up to his elbows and probably dotting everything while bent over a spinning pottery wheel.

Paint a warning on the side of it after his daughter was finished adding all the colors ever?

That bit Scarlet could easily believe. “I’m due for another break with reality, aren’t I?”

“We’re not sure.” Veld informed him simply, not tired or bracing himself to discuss the topic. Just… as plainly as he would comment on the fucking _weather_ and not a specific redhead’s mental health. “You’ve been improving, Scarlet. To what point is now something we will just have to wait and see instead of anticipate from prior history.”

He put the mug down on the man’s professionally neat desk, slowly because it really _was_ an adorable ugly and he was pretty sure he wanted to keep that until they both died from old age just to piss him off now and again. “Can you get it home for me, Verdot? I don’t want to chance it. I’ve already had one that I can recall in the last month.”

“Prompted.” The Turk reminded him pointedly without looking up from his paperwork. “The fact you _can_ remember having one is somewhat unusual.”

“Fuck, tell me about it.”

That earned him a look, dry as Cosmo Canyon _and_ the Corel Desert put together. “I have quite a lot of material. Enough for several _books._ ”

He snorted without a whole lot of humor behind it. “I’ve got phone calls to make with Reeve shortly. Maybe another time… please get this home for me?”

“Very well.”

“That’s also very fucking _adorable._ ”

“Shut up, Scarlet.”

<<◊>>

Even if he had seen it happen four times already, Reeve still gaped at the wild redhead as he placed yet _another_ call and cheerfully swore out whomever picked up in return for some very colorful language right back.

“The _younger_ Wallace! Damn, man. Who left _your_ shitty ass in charge? Were they _high_ or something?”

“ _Fuck you, you fucking ugly_ eyesore _and redheaded stepson of a_ bitch! _What’s_ up, _Scarlet my man? Been_ years _since I last saw your ugly mug, what rock did_ you _just crawl out from under?”_

No real need for any introduction or reintroduction, or any reason. Everyone Scarlet called up really were _all_ happy to hear from them before the news of renegotiations were brought up or any purpose behind the calls were made clear to the various miners or operators in charge of wildly different mining operations across Gaia.

They weren’t all happy to hear from _Reeve_ , but mostly they’d listen to the Director of Urban Development at least on the weight of the other man’s ‘vetting’ and honestly restart negotiations for him from at least a neutral starting position.

The formerly terminally forgetful blacksmith turned weapons maker really did remember a lot of them by name or by voice alone, and personal details that clearly spoke of at least seeing them all in person before. They also, very clearly, knew him equally as well back to sometimes not even need a reminder of his name to crack open the very _descriptive_ language they all used as some sort of common identifier of goodwill.

His mother would be _appalled_ at the language choice her son was listening to.

He was _fascinated_ with the individuals involved bickering back and forth as if there hadn’t been years’ worth of time lost between last seeing one another. The _references_ to Scarlet’s somewhat very checkered past, a few ribbings about getting arrested near specific operations for whatever reasons usually involving a bar brawl or themselves starting some fights, and no few inquiries to what ‘the hell’ the blacksmith was working on _now?_

“We’re going to need a _shit-ton_ of coal, little Wallace.”

“ _Fuck you, I got bigger motherfucker. Can now fucking crack your empty head with one arm._ ” With a wry if still _somehow_ genuine sounding laugh, there were some shuffling noises then a click of a pen before the deep-voiced man continued. “ _Who’s ‘we’, and how much do I get to charge you for the fucking_ service?”

“Shin-Ra, if you can fucking believe _that_. Somehow Verdot’s got me working here, fuck me if I know how. The _slick_ motherfucker.” Equally as genuinely happy as the man he was calling despite the overabundance of swearwords, Scarlet planted his chin on a palm and just grinned fondly at the phone broadcasting the call to the entire equally as bewildered Urban Development Division’s deep and wide ‘main’ office listening in. “Anyways, me and _Director_ Reeve Tuseti here wrestled the raw materials negotiations from that fat-fuck palm-frond. Figured we should spread the wealth around a little, better than that disgusting ass could ever do by fucking _accident_.”

“ _Thank_ fuck. _Whatever the hell it was you believe in, the fucking sky, maybe all those little shitty sand gnats too. Bulk shipment?”_

“Whatever you’ve got going spare, and keep it coming. We’ve got a fuck-ton of iron to smelt up coming in too.”

“ _A shit-ton of coal, for a fuck-ton of iron. Got it._ ” Humming _cheerfully_ over the sounds of a pen scribbling a bit roughly over some stiff paper, as if the colorful terms were a remotely understandable unit of measurement, the coal miner changed from overly pleased to business-like as he continued. “ _Glad for it, Scarlet. That Reactor you guys want to build…”_

“We’ll still need coal to forge weapons, Wallace. That’s never going to fucking change. Even _if_ electric-mako-whatever can _reach_ those temps consistently without a meltdown of something, there’s still the stubborn fucks that’ll buy it because it’s _how it was fucking always done_.”

“ _I keep telling Dyne, but you know that motherfucker._ ”

“Stubborn as a rock, yeah. Tell him I _know_ , man, but I’ll fucking try my damnedest to ensure these asses are _honest_. Even if we put _you_ fuckers out of the power business with something ‘cleaner’ burning, there’ll _always_ be a need for your damn coal. A separate heat source that’ll never fail to burn, smelting shit, and just plain carbon for manufacturing.”

“ _I fucking_ appreciate _the chance to smack him in the face with it, Scarlet. Who’s this ‘Director Tuseti’ shit?”_

Nervously clearing his throat eared him yet another string of euphemisms of varying severity and a few more choice words peppered throughout that was probably appalling his entire staff. Reeve honestly _could not_ understand the whole phrase even if he knew all the words individually, and Scarlet laughing himself sick right next to him helped nothing.

“ _I’m fucking on_ speaker? _You_ asshole, _Scarlet!”_

“Reeve doesn’t care, _motherfucker_. He puts up with my bitchy ass, and you _know_ I’m worse. Besides, we _both_ know you can’t clean up your damn mouth any in the first place.”

“ _Fuck you._ ” Clearing his throat noisily next, one ‘Barrett’ Wallace switched tactics with almost embarrassing obviousness but completely shameless in it too. “ _Director Tuseti, I’m_ very _fucking sorry you have to put up with that shitty jackass._ ”

“Oh, don’t worry Mister Wallace. Bit startling, but well… you _are_ the fifth mining operation Director Scarlet’s called up for me looking for better ore quality than what Director Palmer obtained. The first coal operation.”

He earned himself an incredibly pleased grunt for the admission he wisely didn’t give the last three. “ _Call me Barrett, Director sir. Now, down to the dirty… thirty thousand gil for an immediate shipment of two tons. Five thousand to haul it to you. One ton per shipment after that once every two months, twenty thousand gil for those since we haven’t mined it yet but I can fucking_ assure _you we’ll get it for a steady paycheck._ ”

Checking the offer against the paperwork Palmer had been forced to hand over with a practically unanimous Executive vote against him, Reeve felt his eyebrow raise up as he noted a complete _half_ -off reduction in price from the coal miner for at least the same weight. “… _only_ thirty-thousand for two tons? Director Palmer’s notes suggest he had to fetch it, too.”

“ _I hate that slimy motherfucker, like_ shit _I was doing jack for_ him _more than I fucking had to_. _Cheap, stingy bastard of a whore._ Real _pleasure to gouge his pockets for the fucking_ delight _of his presence._ ”

Well. Blunt.

“Go to forty-five-thousand and leave us to pick it up, Wallace. We already got the guys for it heading out there and pay your guys a bonus for their fucking troubles with the Reactor plans. We need this for at _least_ four years if not _more_ , from the look of the rates we’re getting from the iron miners. We’re not trying to fucking _embarrass_ the shit out of palm-frond, and frankly anything you fucking do probably would embarrass that waste so do us a favor and _pretend_ you’re not a mushy shit at heart.” Scarlet volunteered, a bit unusually as he normally left pricing up to an increasingly flabbergasted head of Urban Development until nearer the end of each call to chip in.

“ _Got a better idea,_ ‘Director’ _Scarlet. Man, I’ve got miners with missing limbs from a fucking damn cave in some months ago and just stupid fucking accidents before that. Make me some prosthetics to get my men back on their feet and you guys can name your damn terms. So long as it ain’t fucking nothing, man. We still gotta pay these motherfuckers._ ”

Stealing the pad of note paper Reeve had ready to note down the terms of the new contracts on before sending one of his people off to draft up something more legal, the Director of Advanced Weaponry also nicked his pen from him to start writing down his own notes. Again. “I’ll send some guys out there to get me measurements. You’ll be looking for fuckers in Verdot’s slick suits, he’s got a whole fucking _team_ of auditors now. Give’m a good show about the prices, Wallace. I’ll be worth a damn laugh once Verdot gets through with them.”

“ _Will do, you fucking_ shit.”

Reeve blinked a few times as the call wrapped up shockingly quickly with still a significant reduction in price for the contractual labor due to a different labor in exchange without any real need for him to ask for it, never really sure _how_ all of a sudden these people were willing to cooperate so easily in so short amount of time with only a few words.

This was the third time prosthetics were involved in the negotiations, too.

He was, to borrow Scarlet’s overly colorful language for emphasis, _fucking delighted_.

Cooperation in return for more cooperation was something he was pleasantly surprised to see, after jockeying so long with Shin-Ra’s somewhat stagnate internal ranks and Midgar’s steel environment he had almost forgotten how _pleasant_ it was to barter on a different system than just money for everything.

“Well… Mister Barrett is surprisingly not soured on Shin-Ra as a whole.” Reeve observed wryly, beckoning another of his various ‘minions’ as Scarlet liked to term them to start in on writing the actual renegotiated contracts for the coal deliveries with the new details.

“Wouldn’t know, Reeve. It’s been… well. Who knows how long.” Shrugging that off, the redhead ripped off a bit of paper and added it to his growing pile of ‘those in need of prosthetics’ to give his own orders from once back in his Division. “Wallace the _elder_ , now… wouldn’t have been as accommodating. Stick in the mud would be putting it _lightly_ but as he was a damn fine miner, he could get away with that just fine. Barrett’s a good guy, shockingly. He’ll give everything _a_ chance, including you, with minimum bitching. Just…”

“Don’t ‘screw it’ up?”

“Mining is an _incredibly_ dangerous job. Sudden mako springs boiling up under them, shaft collapse, swinging a damn _pickaxe_ in cramped environments, dusty rock grit getting into their lungs, hitting poisonous pockets of air trapped under the earth, monster attacks on the mine’s entrance while they’re tired and busy. Give them some respect for braving it, even if we all swear too damn much. _Respect_ the fact that selling their work is a trouble _all_ miners have, and their concerns that their mines might run dry or their efforts might just devalue under them. They’re stubborn and intractable assholes to a _man_ , or lady, have to be with that kind of life and yet to keep _on_ going back to make a livelihood off this?”

“Brave or stupid, depending?”

“Depending.” Scarlet agreed wryly, with a slanted grin for him. “Well. That’s all the iron and coal guys I know myself. You’re on your own for the rest.”

Reeve _could_ cancel the rest of the contracts. Palmer had made a specific point of including the same incredibly galling ‘sudden death’ loophole in every one of his and forcing it through despite some rather steep pricing in return. The other Director spread his contracts out to multiple mines to account for it, but with the Director of Advanced weaponry vouching for him he got much better concentrations and rates for them from far fewer mines.

He wondered if the mine owners spread the word back and forth for something ‘serious’ enough to need a warning for now that he was looking at the incredibly similar rates for iron from multiple regions. For both his ‘renegotiation’ and the originals.

How well did all miners know one another?

What _systems_ did they have in place to protect themselves?

A blacksmith visiting them for a check of quality or to buy himself some raw metal was an expected happening, from his hasty research into the topics last night. It was a rather common occurrence and exactly why Scarlet did know these people. Before he was somewhat forcibly joined to Shin-Ra for his own wellbeing, the then journeyman blacksmith had wandered an impressive amount of the Planet apparently seeing what he could do with all sorts of metals and spent months of time at several mines just ‘for the hell of it’ on his way back and forth.

Sometimes paying for his presence with repairing equipment and sometimes paying with actual gil from the sounds of the conversations he just listened to, but still accommodating the men and women somehow for the imposition if Scarlet had a question or a project to try with their ores. The ‘usual’ price for blacksmiths visiting miners that didn’t intend to purchase ore was work in exchange for accommodations, even if the then younger man had occasionally got into brawls with various miners for a variety of very strange sounding reasons.

There was probably a lot he wasn’t being informed of, and he didn’t mind at all if there was no actual ill-will behind it aside a game of one upping another for the strangest reasons to throw the first punch.

That _was_ a thing, much to his surprise.

Any way it happened the redhead held the same attitude as most of the miner operators they had spent all morning calling up. Something most were more comfortable with than Reeve’s ‘prissy’ behavior, as that third iron miner Jessabelle Ritter accused him of having.

Old Mistress Ritter was also the one currently _winning_ the strange years long game of ‘I punched first’ for the category of ‘weirdest insult ever’. Not that it had _any_ impact on anything, but it apparently needed to be stated much to Scarlet’s vast amusement at the news.

If mines could ‘run dry’, then it was likely they did keep tabs on one another if only to know where to go if that unfortunate happening occurred to them. It could also be a sort of safety check, to be sure a mine full of miners weren’t wiped out in a monster attack or from cave-ins by just calling one or another up to chat after a while. That deliveries would stop would be a sign of an unfortunate accident, but that realization from various clients might come too late if there were any survivors as deliveries were scheduled after large blocks of time to mine out the materials.

Thirdly, it would be a way for them to not accidentally undercut one another too severely to the point of ‘devaluing’ the ores they spent so long digging up from pure rock.

It would be incredibly rude to not call them all up and see what their feelings on the new situation was with Reeve and not Palmer being the Director in charge of their contracts with Shin-Ra, even if there would be no change to the pricing or amounts without Scarlet’s old reputation assisting him. At the very least, he’d start building up his own connections to these sometimes brave and sometimes foolhardy miners and mine operators.

“We could use a little cushion of leeway in the various projects. There’s no telling if there’ll be a major accident or two.” Then he could ‘afford’ to have the spare metal to make all the extra streetlamps under the plate and pad out the curtain wall intended to ring around Midgar to justify the excess later. That way _everyone_ would be safe, not just those on the plates. “We are _well_ within budget, after all.”

“Still need to supply palm-frond’s rocket guys with their own, too. He might be an asshole, but his pilots and flight mechanics are completely different.”

“I have a separate budget for that.” Reeve revealed with a smirk, shuffling his paperwork around to perhaps attempt calling the rest of the rough and ready miners or their more refined mine owners himself. “And, I think I’ll leave the prices as they are. They _are_ Palmer’s, of course.”

“All up to you now, man.”

He put the paperwork to the side, a bit more serious now as he looked at the other Director fully instead of sideways. “How _would_ I verify anything extra is used for the rocket tests and not sold to line Palmer’s accounts? I have no doubt that with how inflated everything we just went through is there probably _is_ some skimming from the top going on… you can’t know the factory owners too.”

“Tanis might, but Verdot _does_ run a department. More his thing than mine, money numbers and all.”

Reeve grimaced at the very idea, although he knew the Turks were a necessity it didn’t really mean he wanted to ‘throw’ anyone to them. If he could see a reason for it, he would but still wouldn’t like it.

“No, _seriously_. He _is_ an auditor. This is literally _why_ he helped us, not just because I’m his friend. Verdot probably wants a good long look at the numbers. Nothing might happen from it. Something might happen because of this. Either way he gets to check and make sure no one’s getting cheated.”

“…I suppose.”

Scarlet gave him a wry grin. “You _do_ realize Tseng and Rude from the Auditing Division are already here and looking over palm-frond’s records now he can’t deny them without actual cause… right?”

Startled, he twisted around in his comfortable seat and blinked at the very silent suited man standing three steps away from them in his blind spot. “Um…”

“I would be Tseng, Director Tuseti. From, as Director Scarlet has pointed out, the General Affairs Auditing Division.” The polite young man with a rather Wutai-cast to his features volunteered, ignoring the snickering from Reeve’s other side. “If you have completed some renegotiations, we would appreciate a copy of the information you are working from.”

“Oh… oh, yes. Of course.” Peeling those documents from the stack of them, he handed them over. “I have only a few more calls to make, Mister Tseng. Director Scarlet has already assisted me with these.”

Tseng gave a simple nod, walking away with the papers to possibly make copies or scan into the company’s networked computer system for an ‘original’ to compare to their own records.

“Don’t get visited by them often?”

“Almost _never_ , Scarlet.” He tried ridiculously hard to ensure his budget was as clear as humanly possible and accounted every gil to avoid it, before he got to know Verdot as a man rather than the always composed right-hand man of President Shin-Ra’s.

With a sigh, the weapons maker got up from his seat. “Lucky you. They’re _still_ people, Reeve. And they _do_ have a legit job. Good luck and try not to take offense on the rest of those miners for their language.”

“I have surprisingly gotten used to colorful euphemisms being interjected passionately. Very… descriptive, if not anatomically possible most of the time.”

“It _is_ medically proven that swearing ‘colorfully’ actually helps manage pain and relieve stress.” Scarlet insisted without turning around, giving him a backwards wave on his way out of the Urban Development Division’s main offices. “See you later, Reeve. Rude, what’s your bucket.”

The bald-shaven young man already reviewing a few files with another of his people merely nodded, the equally as young man that took a few of Reeve’s files ignored the farewell.

* * *

The only bit of equipment that required adjustments was Hewley’s gloves, which for an absolute guess wasn’t half bad.

The kids were all around the fifteen-sixteen mark, Sephiroth would get taller and the burly SOLDIER would get broader in a matter of time.

Rhapsodos… well, there _was_ no help for the orange-red haired brat.

Scarlet wisely kept that observation to himself, adjusting the stitching across the palm for Hewley and repositioning the plating to match suit if need be.

With the teenagers bickering behind him again, which was becoming frightfully common of the gutsy brats if they weren’t trying to whack the shit out of each other or tidying up their separate affairs for a military deployment to an active combat zone that was probably any day now, he had rather tuned everything out in favor of punching new holes in the tough scaled leather to sneak a bit of nylon braided thread through.

“ _Scarlet._ ”

Which was apparently bad of him.

“One second, Verdot.” Whacking the punch through one last time, he discarded both his hammer and the punch once he wrenched it out of the dragon scales before turning around. “Need something?”

He gave each of the teenagers a separate look each, but none of the three seemed all that bothered to leave until either Scarlet gave Hewley back his gloves or something more important came up. When the Turk of Turks realized the same, the man merely turned back to him. “I still need to justify your behavior to some people, at least. Scarlet, _can_ you attempt your mastery now?”

“…I’m _still_ a journeyman? They didn’t strip me of it when I went nuts?”

Veld gave him a new look that did question his apparent sanity. “I was able to prevent that. And just _who_ are _they?”_

“Shit, man. _My_ master, the woman that trained me as an apprentice. If she’s alive still. Teacher-student chain, it takes just about _any_ master who knows the original master agreeing another’s journeyman is now a master to get the title. If… I guess, if you _think_ I can, you need to find either a master blacksmith that knew her or Master Nova. She’s the one that took me on as an apprentice in Mideel, but she was already well past middle aged when that happened. Like, it’s been almost twenty years now since I met her and she was no spring chocobo _then_.”

Still eyeing him, suspiciously now probably because Scarlet had never really told him why he had wandered the whole of the Planet learning from various blacksmiths around the world, the Turk silently huffed. “What is the requirement?”

“Depends on the master contacted, they set the challenge. Usually a masterwork, armor or blade or a combination of them in a specific sequence or type. Or… you know, discovering or rediscovering a new technique repeated three times for veracity’s sake. I’d have to demonstrate that I can, any way the master demands. Which I suspect _you_ know full well I can do.”

“You should’ve gotten a ‘mastery’ _years_ ago. Before all this.”

Which he hadn’t done for… reasons. Specific reasons, which he couldn’t _remember_ anymore so they only might or might not apply. Not entirely certain, he informed Veld of that.

The man now looked rather aggravated, not obviously so but enough that all three SOLDIERs listening in were now eyeing him instead of whatever it was they were pretending they were so interested in. “ _Can_ you do it, Scarlet?”

“…Verdot, the _same_ reason I keep telling you I’ve had a psychotic break is why I can’t make that decision. I don’t honestly know if I’m up to do it, and if I’m fucking _catatonic_ when the master gets here I’d lose my journeyman status. You have to make that call.”

“Four months.” Veld warned him, which was honestly nice of the Turk who ran Scarlet’s life for him. “SOLDIER Sephiroth, may I have a word?”

“…very well, Director Verdot.”

“Scarlet, don’t listen in.”

“Okay then.” Spinning around to pick up the dragon leather again, he pulled the heavy leather needle out from the kit he had out to fix Hewley’s gloves. “No, Rhapsodos. I don’t need to know. Shut the door.”

<<◊>>

“I don’t mean to take up the little time you have left before you deploy tomorrow morning, Sephiroth. But I am forced to ask for a favor.”

“I have surmised as such. While I cannot promise anything, I can listen.”

The Director of the General Affairs Auditing Division, or if Director Scarlet was to believed ‘the Turks’ and he had no reason to doubt the man’s claim, turned fully to him with a completely controlled expression that could not betray him as the door they had exited out of slid shut. “Scarlet managed to inform me of a few _interesting_ bits of information before it was taken from him again, and while I can only speculate on the truth a few things remain… disturbing.”

A deliberate ploy for a sympathetic reaction. Sephiroth considered the single sentence with all due weight as it came from a superior, discarding the manipulation. “And your conclusions?”

“I do not deal in ‘speculation’. I am looking for confirmation. According to what he could fight his own mind to inform me of, the previous ‘price’ of failure was beheading. Hence, he ‘lost’ his head. While execution _is_ a fairly frequent sentence for severe enough crimes… beheading _specifically_ is rather unique.”

“…failure.”

“Refusal. Scarlet denied whomever it might have been, and when he mistook my questions as asking why he didn’t he was… unduly alarmed.”

Moderately more successful attempt of manipulation, not that he suspected the older man intended for that result. “And your favor, Director Verdot?”

“I have little information on smitheries in Wutai, or anything that might be _asked_ of blacksmiths visiting to learn. If it would not compromise your orders, SOLDIER, I would appreciate anything you might learn about how outside journeyman blacksmiths are treated by Wutai smiths.”

“Simple enough.” Sephiroth decided, as it was in truth. “The length of the country will hinder any efforts for a thorough search, if I am able to convey to you any unusual reports.”

“Given Scarlet’s personality, I rather expect that if he refused someone highly placed in Wutai it would have been… eye catching.”

An understatement, an attempt to bring humor to the conversation. Perhaps a show of personal favor, or the acknowledgement of the ‘favor’ done for a superior. “I concur.”


	11. Chapter 11

Losing count wasn’t _new_. Counting _beyond_ him losing his place was. Apparently, about when he realized numbering events was a fucking _impossibility_ … he forgot.

Then did it all again.

Either ‘something numbered’ five or six, and he was on ‘strange and/or weird things’. Scarlet didn’t honestly remember getting a checkup before, and he didn’t really mind getting one now. He was almost thirty, kind of a something _required_ to make sure he was and would remain healthy therefore he understood the need for one perfectly.

But why was _Veld_ here too?

The fact he knew, in the same way as he knew to trust his best friend even when he didn’t trust the Turk, that he never _intentionally_ lost count of whatever events before but also never consciously decided to restart… it made him wonder exactly how many times before and how often had he been trying to keep things in sequential order that way.

A better question. How many times did he _fail?_

Given his _utterly fucked_ memories, probably a long time now.

Hindsight, when you _forgot_ _you numbered shit_ … there was more than just several ‘ones’ and several ‘twos’ and on until the end when he restarted counting. Seemed he usually got up somewhere between five and nine before there wasn’t anything else in that ‘category’ that followed in what he _could_ remember.

Even worse, those categories _also repeated._ This wasn’t the first ‘category, weird’ he could dredge out of his memories.

Informing the Turk of Turks of his recent realization was more habit than actual intent as it spilled from him without prompting like what had apparently become normal for him, but given the single raised eyebrow as the other man kept reading his magazine?

Veld knew of the habit before he could tell him, maybe not to the new point that he could count past some arbitrary or not number of events and realize that was not normal. He was starting to come to hate informing the other man of things he already knew.

It didn’t help either of them but as Scarlet didn’t _know_ what would, he’d keep on reporting things as he realized them. There was nothing else to be done.

“…you get _weird_ parental vibes from this too? I mean, fuck if I can recall my parents but you’re very ‘dad-ish’ right now.”

Aside piss off the Turk because he _could,_ he wouldn’t kill him if he spent all this time keeping him alive despite his best efforts otherwise.

“Scarlet. You are a _full-grown adult._ I _will_ strangle you. With your _own hair_.”

Tapping his fingertips together between his knees, he got maybe another five seconds of silence before he broke the serenity of the doctor’s waiting room again. “Why a private practice?”

“Because once while you were as you said ‘catatonic’, you assaulted a Shin-Ra doctor attempting to inject you with an unidentified glowing substance he did not reveal the purpose of before he took his own life.” Revealed the Turk conversationally, still annoyed but as the latest development of his renewing sanity meant he’d _probably_ remember at least the guy still answered him instead of ignoring the question. “We later identified it as a raw mako with minimal trouble and the man as a missing persons case from three years prior to his sudden suicide, though your subsequent blood-test did not reveal more in your system than expected for someone that works with the material more than most. I decided to obtain you a doctor from a private practice, which you are _allowed_ as you were a department head at the time and especially so now as you are a Director.”

Oh… _really?_

“Blacksmith, mako’s an occupational hazard. I _forge_ with the shit sometimes.” Scarlet admitted to while trying to plot murder in his head, to Veld’s complete _unsurprise_ that kind of surprised him. “Is this… mako poisoning, then? Why don’t more smiths go nuts from mako _fumes,_ then? It _doesn’t_ ‘burn’ at those temperatures, weirdly didn’t ever get to the ‘thick’ stage… huh. Forgot about that, so no fumes making shit worse.”

Dropping the glossy print to his lap, the Turk pinched the bridge of his nose in what he could read was sheer exasperation. “Did you just so happen to fall into a mako pool without me noticing, Scarlet?”

“…I don’t think so, that’d be pretty hard. I wouldn’t have been able to drag my own ass out of that, right?”

“Until another answer is presented, it _is_ being treated as such. Medically, the excuse for your mental state when anyone asks is ‘Mako Poisoning’. _However_ , none of the tests developed to identify such register you on any of the blood tests we’ve had done for you. _Nothing_ indicates you’ve been poisoned with exposure to a high concentration of mako, either now or by the first time I had you checked over by a professional.”

That tickled something… not a memory, but another of those _known_ things that liked to thread through his mind without any damn reason to be so solidly sure of. “I’ve never been that stupid to actually touch raw liquid mako. It’s either crystalized, materia, or I treat it like I do mercury with glass or something else non-permeable between me and it. The shit’s _poisonous_ , Verdot.”

“Doctor Ulfreich will be pleased to hear that, Director Scarlet.” Cheerfully announced a smartly attired secretary-nurse, who got a bit wry when neither man reacted to her injection. “The doctor is ready for you now.”

Instead of getting up, Scarlet tapped his fingertips together again and thought about it.

“…Scarlet. _I’ve said so._ We have been here multiple times, Doctor Ulfreich is _your_ doctor and he has been _vetted_ extensively to _ensure me_ he has no ulterior motivations.”

He put Veld in charge of his life, and the Turk was _a Turk_. Turk of Turks. Scarlet _could_ apparently _at least_ defend himself in the moment, but his best friend made the decisions for more than just security reasonings. “…fine.”

The whole thing still stank of ‘parent attending child’s checkup’ which admittedly was kind of gallingly hilarious as the guy _was_ already a dad, but he did it to himself in the first place so bitching about it when he apparently needed to get his hand held wouldn’t be fair as _he_ shoved this on Veld.

“Hey, Verdot? By the way… I’m going to need three lunar curtains, three light curtains, three hero drinks, three drams of gut acid from a frozen nail, the dried carapace of a grashtrike whole if possible or from two if not, about a double handful of scales from a serpent, the blade half of a ghirofelgo, basically the frames from at least twenty-five mirages or eight to nine tonberry lamps _or_ the scales from about thirty jerseys and _no_ you can’t mix any of that up to try evening it all out if you can’t find enough of one or another, and the bottom half of a crazy saw. Oh… _and_ the back scales of a heavy tank with about two liters of acrophies blood. Untainted from excessive mako exposure, just… all of it. If it ain’t ‘normal’ levels of mako exposure, I can’t use it.”

The Turk stared at him, flatly without _any_ slight expression to read from.

“You wanted me to get my mastery, man. Good luck with _that_ shopping list. It was a pain in the ass the first time around, and I don’t think I can go hunting myself anymore. Who knows how the fuck I got the shit for yours.” Pausing after getting to his feet, Scarlet pretended to think for a second. “ _Oh._ Yeah. _And-_ “

“ _Shut,_ up.”

“-the dried-out parts of a cactuar, all of it. About three cords worth, or like… six of the fuckers. Doesn’t _need_ to have its needles still, but it’ll help.”

He earned himself a semi-ragged, heavy sigh much to his not remotely hidden delight. “Scarlet, _what the hell._ ”

He managed to stun his best friend, score another one for him.

Turning around, since he really hadn’t gotten all that far until he managed to completely bewilder the nurse lady _and_ the Turk of Turks, the weapons maker grinned in Veld’s face. “Adamantium in raw ore form is _eaten_ by young adamantaimai as they grow, brought up to the surface of deep ocean veins by the oversized sea monsters just to be hunted after they lay their eggs by hunters who rip off their shells and melt it down to raw metal again to be sold. Some metals you can _only get_ from monsters as their biology interacts with the ‘regular’ ores and changes their very nature into something else or because anything humanoid wouldn’t survive getting it. Why do you _think_ no one figured out how to make ziedrich alloy after the Ancients disappeared? I was _trying_ to find a less… intensive ingredient list. Didn’t happen, or it’s part of what I can’t remember still.”

“…write me a requisition list, and the locations of all these… things. If you can _remember_ that much, then I suspect you also know the best places to find all of them. What even _is_ a ‘dram’?”

“ _Well_ … depends on what definition you want to use. Sixty drops, or a ‘min’, _or_ eighty drops. Depending. Times three. Might want to go for four… just to be safe. Admittedly a bit of a trick to be sure of that in the middle of trying to pump a dead one’s stomach without getting jumped by others not too happy with you for killing a friend or nestmate or whatever.”

His best friend _forever_ pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved another sigh. “ _Why_ am I friends with you?”

“Beats me, man.”

Veld rubbed one side of his face, eventually ending up covering his mouth and most of his short beard with it as he regarded Scarlet with _utter_ disgust. “A _full_ , _more precise_ , list _will be_ on my desk by the time I return to work tomorrow morning.”

“Sure.”

“You will _not_ fight with Doctor Ulfreich’s orders and allow him to run his physical without complaint.”

“I’ll still bitch, I think I’m physically incapable of not doing so.”

The _absolutely_ flat and deadpan expression now aimed at him was the _fucking highlight_ of his whole… however long it had been.

Forever, maybe.

“I would _appreciate_ a more full explanation at another point, preferably _how_ you came to compile such a list and exactly how you came to that conclusion.“

“…Verdot, man. _Legends exist_ for a _reason._ ”

“They are _stories_ , most without a remote connection to any actual reality.”

“Sure, okay… but that would then mean _ziedrich_ is just a story. Problem, there’s bits left around the world and we _both_ know not only can I recreate it but that it _does exactly_ what the legends say. Don’t you.” Scarlet grinned broadly, feeling his face starting to hurt as the Turk didn’t correct his assumption that he already tested the legendary elemental protection the Eos alloy wedding rings gave both him and his wife. “One or the other, Verdot. Which are you going to pick? There’s only one right answer.”

“Neither. Legends are _stories_ , _most_ without connections. I never stated that _all_ of them were pure fantasy.” Getting up himself, his best friend turned to the still shocked silent nurse standing in the doorway leading to the doctor’s office while flatly ignoring him. “Miss Victoria, this conversation _is_ covered by the secrecy clause you and Doctor Ulfreich have signed.”

“Of… of course, Director Verdot. I honestly don’t think I understood most of that.”

“Scarlet. Stop stalling.”

“… _and_ , you’ll need to get your hands on a bit of ancient ziedrich. For comparison’s sake in ‘proving I did it’ part of the mastery exam.”

“ _Shut up,_ Scarlet.”

* * *

Floors 41 and 44 needed some bits of reconstruction, which Scarlet didn’t really _care_ about one but pitched in for both in the redesign and the additional manufacturing capability they suddenly needed.

44 needed a wide enough forge for him and maybe another two observers, then all the equipment and supplies he’d need for the whole mastery project. As the biggest thing he needed besides the forge was a smelter, to turn the monster metals into something ingot-like he could then use without cutting himself on sharp edges or shattered shards of a blade the width of three men, the ventilation system needed a bit of refinement. Major refinement.

They had the rest of it already or could build it with little additional effort once the vents were reconfigured.

41 had Shin-Ra’s electrical engineers and techs with their wonderland of all things circuitry and robotic, above floor 40 which were weapon and equipment requisitions offices and under 42 which was opened into 43 for large mechanical prototypes to be built up without too much trouble. Not that they could get anything _out of there_ in one piece, but they could test cockpits and the various controls to multiple things with enough space up there.

44 _also_ could be opened up for the mechanical floors to experiment more with, but for right now it was closed up to provide a greater floorspace.

Scarlet wasn’t up there or on his ‘usual’ floor 45. He was a lot more interested in ‘prosthetics’ right now so his head electrical and hydraulic engineers, a medical technician, and no few other blacksmiths were gathered around a planning table on floor 41 to discuss the ‘quid pro quo’ arrangements they’d do for Reeve’s negotiations.

“They’re _miners,_ rock-head,” he had to remind Tanis before the guy got too far into redesigning a _lightweight_ variant of what Shin-Ra already had in prosthetics, “odds are the moment they get a new arm or leg they'll be _right back_ to it. Just try to tell me I’m wrong.”

“No bet, fishy-boy. I know my people.”

One of the engineers, hydraulic given she was waving a small one at Scarlet’s head to emphasize her point before she interjected, snorted rather dryly. “Doesn’t mean reducing the weight is pointless, Director. Might actually _help_ the men. We’ve got the ratios to mimic the weight of flesh and bone for the replacements in practically all body types, but a reduction of a small fraction will reduce the strain on the human body after install if they’re going to just go right back to what they were doing before losing a limb.”

“Yeah… we usually confine our poor suckers to a medical bed,” chipped in a medical tech still wearing his spotlessly clean scrubs instead of the oil and grit stained encrusted people he was standing with, “we _can_ just build it all to the correct ratio from the start and ensure a successful operation. However… well. Laborers, not employees. They don’t work, they don’t earn their gil. Who knows how long it’s been since they were forced to stop? Getting them back on their feet, or foot, is probably the more immediate issue for their wellbeing. How else will we work out a way to not let them overuse the new equipment we’re going to be installing?”

“We’ll be providing installation and after care.” Scarlet reminded his entirely too-smart-for-their-own-good group of employees. “At least a month’s worth. If I thought I could get away with it we’d also do a warranty for some years, but… regardless. Can we _gradually_ install functionality instead? That’d do less weight to let the flesh heal faster, right?”

The medical tech he asked the question of waggled a hand from side to side. “Kind of sort of no, Director. Everything that meshes with the remaining flesh _needs to be_ installed all at once. Lets it all heal up around the replacements and prevents accidents or infections. That means the metal bone graft, the nerve connections, the muscle carbon fiber weave to retain whatever physical ability is left, _and_ the capping plate to keep it sterile most of that needs to go through are the bare minimum that can’t be tinkered with. Leaving them with a bone sticking out of their former injury? Without any protection they’d jar it, without the rest of the arm or leg the same goes with the rest of the prosthetic connections.”

“The replacement bone ends also has to have the hardware and the software to translate nerve controls installed before attachment,” raking a hand through short dark strands as he thought the suggestion through, his head electrical engineer in charge of this floor shrugged, “those nerve connections are too delicate to not have any kind of protection, Director. They would _also_ need to be immediately connected to the associated parts, not just so they can relearn how to use those limbs but because soldering them in later would be inhumanly cruel.”

“We could do electrical plugs and upgrade the parts after a month to the specs of a ‘standard’ prosthetic.” Tanis suggested thoughtfully, scrapping that sheet of blueprint for a new sheet without the white ink scrawled all over it to put across the table set off to the side of an active workshop full of welders, electricians fiddling with electrical parts, soldering efforts, and sparks. “We’d need an electrician before we clear the miners to go back to work on our end.”

“No, that’s _still_ inhumanly cruel. The feedback that’ll echo up those nerve connections alone? Might as well take a file to whatever’s left of their limbs and grate it down. Painkillers won’t work on that, we’ve tried it. The feedback never goes away if we solder the connectors that lead back to the nerves.”

“Hey… don’t _dentists_ aim a numbing agent for a nerve in one’s jaw to numb their patients?”

“You _would_ know, Rys.” Dryly agreed the electrician, shooting the hydraulic engineer with an apparent sweet tooth an equally dry look. “Teeth are mostly _bone_ , basically. No nerves in the bone coating, you just have to numb the ones around it to prevent discomfort. Once the decay’s been drilled out and a new material put in to cover the holes, there’s nothing for the nerves to register as ‘not right’ to send pain signals back to your brain. That’s not so simple with missing _flesh_.”

“Could we knock them out for that?” Inquired their medical tech thoughtfully, holding up a hand before the older man that _invented_ prosthetics could bite his head off. “No, I’m being serious. Medical protocol, they don’t need to feel the pain from getting the prosthetic attachment installed so we knock them out for it. If your objection is that it would be inhuman, would painkillers or anesthetic work instead?”

“Doesn’t solve the feedback issue. Eventually the nerves will get a signal through any painkiller that ‘I was just assaulted, alarm and nauseating amounts of pain must be felt’ which, as the flesh they’re usually reporting on is just _gone_ , doesn’t ever get ‘better’. Anything a nerve doesn’t ‘know’ how to report is defaulted to a ‘pain’ signal, until whatever stops. Once there’s nothing there, it’ll stop… but that’ll render installing a prosthetic rather pointless if we just have to uninstall it. And, since we only get _one_ chance to install a prosthetic?”

“We have to connect the nerves up in the first place.” Scarlet pointed out, not entirely following the logic his electrical engineer inventor was using but aware there might not _be_ an answer for a technology that was probably still in its infancy. “Is it the _heat_ warping the gold to gold connections with more gold that’s already installed that provides a feedback signal? Then that might be part of the nature of intentionally ionized gold sending a garbled mess up to the brain rather than an issue with the nerves themselves. The replacements we put in are basically relays, right? What signal is that when you solder connections?”

His head electrician eyed him in exasperation. “You sure you only _just_ read up on all this, Director?”

“I do metals, man. Ions are more your shit. I’m asking as the uninformed idiot of the conversation what _programming_ is that? Are the nerves echoing a ‘command’ they think another nerve gave them, which our dumb relay sends back as ‘expected signal, repeat’ to make that feedback loop?”

“…I don’t know, Director. I also wouldn’t be able to _fix it_ , because if it’s a _soft_ ware issue not a hard?” Aggravated by the very idea or that Scarlet asked a question he couldn’t immediately answer about his prized invention to replace missing limbs, the older man split off from the meeting to go hunt down someone else in his personal wonderland.

Probably whomever created the programming for the circuit relays to work off of.

“So… take five, people?”

Rys the hydraulic team lead, the medical tech who would be the lead tech for all the groups intended to be sent out to do the whole installation, three other blacksmiths who were completely lost and really just waiting to hear what metal they were to use for the parts they needed to fabricate, all agreeably wandered off for either their own projects they had abandoned at his behest or to find something to do for the short break.

“You _really_ need to actually go through the reports, Director.” Tanis informed him cheerfully, still shadowing him even if Scarlet had told him to fuck back off to 45 already several times. “I have _no idea_ what the hell the two of you were talking about in the end there.”

“Ionization is _heat_ , you idiot. Different terms, same shit. It’s _still_ ‘energy’, one nerves can signal since we can _feel_ heat and cold. Tiny spots of intense heat echoed repeatedly mistranslated however many times? Has to be annoying, might be ‘painful’.”

“…okay, disturbing. Ion _wasn’t a term_ a couple years ago.”

“I’m a quick study.” Which wouldn’t remotely help the assumption people had that Scarlet was some kind of genius, but he really couldn’t honestly explain he had a short lifetime in a world that wasn’t drenched in liquid memory that used similar terms themselves to anyone. He _basically_ had what amounted to a high school diploma to his name, and not his _current one_ either _._ Not that… any of the former _principles_ he once studied were of any real fucking use in a world with magic and monsters. “I guess… I really should, shouldn’t I?”

“Well, you won’t be hearing _me_ complain about a break from your eternal tinkering without the SOLDIERs to chew through it all for me. And who knows? Maybe you’ll find another problem to fix somewhere in the rest of the Divisions’ on-going projects.”

Scarlet wouldn’t hold his breath… but a second pair of fresh eyes might just help his various minions more than absent acceptance of their work and no deadlines to race for.

Might as well do the actual job Veld got him stuck with and justify the money he was being paid.

He did kind of wonder… well. He couldn’t exactly _quit_ Shin-Ra, not _yet._

Maybe in a couple years. If he didn’t completely lose his marbles again somewhere and Veld agreed he was ‘better’ enough to handle his own shit again.

Then again, that would require him to outright abandon Reeve here. Then there were all the miners he had put the guy in touch with, who all probably thought he was keeping an eye on the Shin-Ra end of their contracts for them to trust in more than they did for palm-frond. Then abandon the three SOLDIER First-Classes, who all really had more than enough shit to deal with than his bullshit.

That didn’t include Veld, who was only one of those he regretted accidentally ‘bailing’ on the worse and didn’t deserve for it to happen again.

Annoyed by that realization, he raked a hand through the top part of his wild mess of hair pulled back into a ponytail until the tangles forced a stop.

…he was going to start _braiding_ the annoying length soon.

As soon as he figured out how to braid his own hair without it being lopsided.

* * *

“…I wonder if they’re doing alright.”

“Reeve. Stop. They’re SOLDIERs, with other SOLDIERs and _platoons_ of Infantry. They’re probably perfectly fine and squabbling enough behind whatever officer’s back to annoy everyone.”

The Director of Urban Development seemingly accepted that and went back to minding his minions.

 _Seemingly_.

“Sorry, I just… they’re very young.”

“For _Midgar_ sensibilities, sure.” Scarlet spoke around the hand he had planted over his face, striving to not snap at the man for continually bringing up the teenagers or how well the kids were doing in an active combat zone. “Write them a letter and _ask_.”

Reeve fidgeted with his pen, leaning over as _if_ that would keep the conversation between them and their joint-team of Weapon Development techs and Urban Development researchers gathered in basement seventeen to figure out how to refine the materia manufacturing process to something less dangerous to make if not how to get specific results. “What would they want to read about?”

“Whatever, man. Something _different_ than scouting or tactical reports. Just a ‘hi, it’s _still_ fucking foggy here’ will probably get a reply… send it to Sephiroth. I’m pretty sure the other two have family that’ll be sending their own.”

Utterly unsurprised the younger man seized him by the arm and dragged him off, probably to ‘help’ write that letter, he merely sighed and followed along. “What _does_ young Sephiroth like?”

“Who the fuck knows.” As this _had to be_ more interesting than ‘overseeing’ the materia manufacturing development or reading yet _more_ old reports on technology development within Shin-Ra, Scarlet let himself be dragged around without anything else too bitchy.

Staring at the back of technicians as _they_ did things was not interesting. Never would be. He very much appreciated that his division could handle their own shit without him standing behind them for ‘motivation’.

Not that… _he_ had any hand in that.

“Well… Sephiroth is _nothing_ like I was, I was rather studious myself…”

“That doesn’t really mean he _won’t_ like a text or two, Reeve. Though, if you send him a book do send something _relevant_. A herbology manual for the western island nation, a monsterology transcript, fuck you might as well send him a translated work of legends or fables for the Wutai culture. Who knows what he likes? Ask a couple questions for him to write back and answer. Or something.”

Reeve gave him a marginally absent nod. “I’m actually stealing you to speak with on a different subject, Scarlet.”

“I give you a two out of ten on a Turk scale. That was _entirely_ too visible for a distraction to steal someone away with.”

“Ah… thank you?”

“Still, if you wouldn’t mind writing a letter or sending him something…?”

“Of course! I already have several questions to ask, not just young Sephiroth but Hewley and Rhapsodos as well. I’ll take your suggestions for supplementary texts under advisement.” Beaming at him as the two of them ended up waiting at the elevator bank as the car descended to get them, the Director of Urban Development then lost his overly excited look for something far more serious. “I’ve finally had a chance to look over the files Director Verdot gave me, Scarlet. It’s… nonsensical.”

“Uh… I wasn’t aware there was supposed to be any…?”

“There _is_ no reason, no pattern for the fact this happens _aside the fact_ there was a pattern for entirely too long that suddenly _also_ no longer applies.” Making a dismissive gesture that very nearly smacked the Director of Advanced Weaponry in the face, Reeve stalked into the elevator once it gave a cheerfully annoying ‘ding’ and slid open. “Your patterns should follow _a_ logic, even if it is its _own_ logic. A gradual increase in fits and starts perhaps, a sign of renewed mental synapses making connections to bridge over the damaged parts of your mind that you obviously suffered some significant trauma to… as certain topics are still risky for you to try connecting back in your mind.”

Here the guy glared up at him, as if it was Scarlet’s fault his brain made no sense.

“You _are_ suffering psychotic breaks. You were shockingly well informed of that to clearly state to Director Verdot of the same at the time you did. Trauma to memory is expected, as well as wild swings in mood and significant changes to personality. Even your _avoidance_ of sleep is textbook, or as near as I could find.”

Huh… why was this a subject? “So what’s the problem you’re having with it?”

“You just _suddenly_ snapped back, not quite fine but yourself in all that really matters. Director Verdot informed me you are nearly _exactly_ the man he lost all those years ago.”

Ouch. Thanks Veld, he just _wanted_ a kick to his conscience right now. “…and?”

“The _physical_ toll is still present, but you have no _personal_ recovery.” Reeve informed him shortly and to the point, now wagging a finger at him. “Psychotic breaks are not _sudden_ things. From all literature I’ve been able to obtain since I was informed, they are a build up of stress that finally reaches a ‘critical mass’ point the individual cannot deal with any longer. There _seriously_ is not enough research done on the subject…”

He grimaced slightly, feeling as if the other man was building up to something he wasn’t going to like. “Reeve. So _what?”_

“You are atypical, which is… well. Not unexpected, truth be known. Scarlet, have you tried talking through or writing down what you _do_ know to try working up to what you no _longer_ know?”

“I don’t even know if I know enough to inform anyone of anything.” Yeah… he didn’t like this. He didn’t write a diary and he talked to his best friend _just enough_. Anything further and he’d start risking his body’s integrity, not just his mind. “ _And_ , Reeve, you’re assuming that what happened is remotely sensical in the first place. Maybe it was a multitude of factors that I don’t remember at all, or just one sudden straw too much. Maybe that there’s no logic is in fact _logical_. Who knows?”

“…that’s the _other_ thing, Scarlet. _How_ did you know and clearly identify your state as a ‘psychotic break’? The term doesn’t come into _wide usage_ until two years after your… ah… experience.”

“Legends _exist_ for a _reason_. It _was_ a break, my _mind broke_. Psychotic, as a term broken down to roots, literally means _abnormal mind._ Psychotic is a term you can find in any _number of texts_ and legends of old warriors, not just Cetra legends, and they’re pretty graphic about how suddenly these favored soldiers and generals went shit crazy from the stress or old battle dreams that haunted them.”

Reeve instantly got distracted by that admission which wasn’t _exactly_ intentional, but he wasn’t going to argue. “Oh, you have a _classical_ education?”

“Don’t think you can call it that, I spent years hunting down legends and fairy tales around the word for a project Verdot’s having me get my blacksmithing mastery on.” Scarlet shrugged, finally punching in a number into the elevator’s panel so they would get somewhere at least physically if not in this conversation. “I’m not a knuckle-dragging idiot, Reeve. But I also didn’t go to ‘school’ or even got any tutoring beyond my blacksmithing apprenticeship. Most of what I’ve learned before I ended up in Shin-Ra were things I set out to learn or I taught myself it.”

The fondly pleased smile was instantly snuffed out as the Director of Urban Development realized he had been distracted, then he tried to school his features into something approaching ‘stern’. “Scarlet, please. Help me help Verdot to help _you_. There _was_ a sudden change, you had been gradually improving by tiny increments that took entirely too long to get you to until suddenly you were remarkably stable in an instant. If we can find _what_ it was?”

“Maybe that’s just how the recovery works. I might know what, but I don’t know _anything_ beyond that.”

“We _know_ how the recovery works, Scarlet. In Shin-Ra Infantry ranks alone? You are not the only one with a sudden snapping point from stress to their history. You were _years_ behind all reason in the recovery up to a few months ago even if you’re one of the first we have records on, now you’re not.”

Scarlet gave him a sideways look.

“…which yes, since you’re _atypical_ means you might just be on the more extreme end of it.” Reeve blew out a sigh as his shoulders slumped in the neat business wear that he somehow thought was appropriate for an experimental procedure, very disgruntled with himself now. “There was still a sudden change, by the literature that means there was a change in the situation somehow… which there are not any obvious ones I can see.”

“Good luck, man. Verdot and I will appreciate it if you can narrow down to any one thing. But nothing really sticks out in my mind… for what that’s worth.”

He earned himself an actual pout, which on a full-grown man with his own neatly trimmed beard shouldn’t be as funny to him. “I _will_ find it, Scarlet.”

“Honestly, if there’s anything _to_ find? You might just be the only one _able_ to find it, Reeve.”


	12. Chapter 12

Though he gave Veld so much shit about it, Scarlet did in fact write out exactly how much of the utterly _complicated_ ingredient list he needed to make multiple bits of a legendary alloy and left it on the man’s desk the day after he told him about it.

Most of it was _probably_ in enough Cetra terms to require a _fucking mastery_ of Ancient Languages and Assorted Old Dialects to even _read it_ , but he did as asked/demanded of him like an obedient crazy headcase.

Master blacksmith Nova told him that he wouldn’t be able to do it to his damn face, once upon a still-foggy time when he was a techy brat who just knew way too much and not anything useful. Not that he was of any use or seemed to know anything useful now, of course.

In hindsight, yet again as he had repeatedly thought as a dramatic teenager himself, his master was a bitch of an old fossil. She had probably known full well he’d get stubborn about proving her ancient ass wrong about what _he_ could or couldn’t do. It was… it had… been a distraction. A complicated one, that took him places anyway and if then he could get that entirely too old crusty woman to _admit_ she had been wrong?

Ziedrich was a _magical_ alloy in nature, in order to support having its own magic to disrupt any elemental whatever cast at the wearer he would have to balance the additions _very fucking carefully_ bit by bit as he built up the elemental resistances to reach the ‘by half’ mark. Until he could remember exactly how the hell he scrounged up the materials for the bit of Eos alloy Veld’s wedding rings were made of it was questionable if that little bit was anywhere near as effective as a whole shield or armor plates… but the Turk hadn’t corrected him about how elementally resistant even a ring made of the stuff was.

Did the size of the ziedrich piece not matter?

There were supposedly only _one or two_ elements that the alloy didn’t naturally halve the effect of, and those were so damn unknown that Scarlet kind of doubted they really existed even if he knew they _should_.

Seriously, how the _Cetra_ figured it out to leave behind priceless bits and a long-winded _multiple-part_ puzzle of a legend about its creation was beyond him.

About a month and change after the ‘sudden’ mandatory physical he suspected he wasn’t actually due for, and that had happened exactly the day after the SOLDIER brats got deployed he noticed that thank you… the Director of Advanced Weaponry got called to the office of the Director of General Affairs Auditing for a ‘review’ of his requested materials.

Which was _also_ kind of weird and unusual, as far as he knew he never had to justify his expenditures to anyone due to an overinflated budget his whole Division couldn’t eat in its entirety without major help, so Scarlet was adding it to the tab and decided he was on event number seven of weird shit because fuck it. 

Why not?

His memories were already a complete mess as it was, little seemed to really sort it out.

Of course, he really should’ve expected what he found there. Veld said he still needed to ‘justify’ Scarlet’s behavior… that would include ‘justifying’ a shopping list worth a couple million gil in value to _someone_ with Shin-Ra for a name.

“Rufus! How _is_ my favorite Shin-Ra brat?”

“I am the _only_ Shin-Ra brat.” Sitting behind the Turk of Turks’ desk like he owned it, and the arrogant little shit probably did, the young adult that grew from Scarlet’s hazy and incomplete memories of a boy was a shaggy-haired white-blond with a seriously nasty smirk on his face. “As far as we are aware, of course.”

“Of course.”

Rufus took a few seconds to inspect the head weapons maker of the company he was set to inherit, leaning back in Veld’s entirely comfy-looking office chair with a massively oversized upholstered back that dwarfed him after a few seconds and tapping his fingertips together like a stereotyped villain. “You missed quite a few birthdays, Scarlet… I _demand_ satisfaction.”

Ballsy brat.

Still with a fond grin, he grabbed one of the ‘visitor’ chairs and spun it around to lean on even if Veld glared a hole into the back of his head for doing it. “Usual rules still apply, Shin-Ra brat.”

“I am _more_ than certain Director Verdot can supply you with the proof of my successful studies.”

“Probably, and _of course_ they’re perfect. Like _you’d_ do anything less. I _meant_ the lessons that don’t have a grading curve, you little shit.”

“As you _failed_ to set a new one upon the start of my eleventh year, I do believe I have completed your little challenge. For the subsequent _eight_ you missed.” Snootily brushing off imaginary lint from his _utterly stupid_ white suit, Rufus’ nasty smirk faded slightly to something entirely too serious and suspicious. “What happened, Scarlet?”

“The _moment_ I know, I’ll tell Verdot.” He just had to shrug for the young man for the rest of his answer. “Still trying to piece it together myself, my memory only goes from chunks of my life in Mideel to about… not even a year after your ninth birthday before they cut out. Then things get… hazily jumbled. I can’t even figure out what I _do_ remember of the last few years, it’s all so much a mess.”

He continued to glare at him suspiciously, but as Scarlet really couldn’t lie to these people he started smirking… which Veld always grumbled about him doing as it made it really obvious he was telling the truth and took amusement from everyone else's reactions to it.

“I tried _numbering_ shit, Rufus. There’s like three hundred different ‘event ones’ in my head.”

“Well… no one ever claimed you were the _smartest_ blacksmith on the Planet.” The Shin-Ra heir observed bitchily, adopting what was clearly Veld’s habit of placing his right arm flat on a surface to be able to help move himself in an instant if need be.

Given it was baby Shin-Ra and not the Turk of Turks, more than likely just to shove himself to a direction if things happened to alarm anyone in the room about the integrity of his personal safety.

It _was_ a habit, so Scarlet didn’t take offense. “Nope! I _definitely_ am not. So I owe you eight presents, to be decided upon at your _leisure_ of course… and as I highly doubt that’s why you had me called down here?”

“…unusual. I expected more resistance than this, Scarlet. You never allowed such liberty with your time before.”

“You’re an _adult_ now, Shin-Ra brat.” He missed practically everything, eight presents no matter what they were was an entirely inadequate price for accidentally abandoning the kid. He hadn’t intended to, but the reality of the situation was he _had_ practically abandoned Rufus and every damn Turk active or not at the time. “Adults don’t need lessons on how people really live and how _different_ another can be, we’re expected to be aware of it and at least account for others affected by our actions.”

“Ah, yes. Your eternal drive to ensure I am not ‘a complete asshole’… unlike my father.”

“I might not _appreciate_ being here under that shitty old man’s reign, Rufus… but as I always expected you’d try your Turk-best to strong arm me in afterwards?”

Like a _very_ satisfied cuahl, the almost _feline_ smirk that was more self-satisfied than the kid always had at the usual insults to his paternal genetic donor made clear that _had been_ one of his goals in life. “Well. As always, it seems as if I am anticipated in my aims… that does _not count_ to the number of presents I am due.”

Scarlet rolled his eyes, also kind of pathetically glad that his ‘future boss’ didn’t seem to blame him for his break with reality. However many he had by now.

 _Seem_ , because… well. The young man might not _be_ a Turk, but he really was in everything but name.

Rufus Shin-Ra was and would always _be_ a nasty piece of work, it was probably genetics the poor sucker. Although, for a kid raised by the secret agent Division of exacting detail inclined spies alone and practically ignored by his own single remaining _known_ family member for probably nearly half or more of his life by now… the advent of one foul-mouthed blacksmith into his life for too few years would never have been enough to change that part of the kid who turned into the young man now before him.

There had been _one_ split-second he _might’ve_ … but Scarlet did not kill kids for crimes they were supposed to commit in some distant future possibility. It wasn’t _his_ right, not when those children _could be_ taught better or nudged off their destructive paths by other means.

He didn’t help kidnappings of young terrified boys happen, ever.

Rufus was as much a product of his environment as everyone else was, and while he could now _choose_ for himself what was and wasn’t right to do as he was either eighteen or nineteen…?

Everyone was a little bit of an asshole, some bigger than others and some unable to stop spewing shit all over everything. Of course, if you _did so_ then _obviously_ you’d be abandoned quicker than you could blink for no one really liked _constant_ assholes dragging everyone around them down.

Except for the weird people that thought they could ‘fix’ a complete asshole, and those too terrified to leave them themselves.

Now, that nasty piece of work was fully grown. Had to _retain_ his own reputation and the loyalty of those around him on his own merits, which did include the massive fortune and name practically stuffed _full_ of a reputation not of his own making. Scarlet did not intend to be different just because he had once been a snarly little shit of a brat he once was very fond of.

After a couple silent seconds enduring an inspection back so he could fix _this_ Shin-Ra heir in his faulty memory, Rufus opened one of Veld’s _normally_ locked drawers and drew out a set of papers stapled together with his messy handwriting decorating only the top sheet of it. “While I am _usually_ the one Verdot has approve anything that might have to do with you, Scarlet… this is a bit. Hmm… beyond the expected.”

Veld had to get his shit _translated_ , that was kind of hilarious if obviously a step that would’ve had to be done with how he wrote it. Also hilarious in that it was apparently enough of a pre-expected requirement he had someone to do it so quick, _and_ that the translations were stapled to his ‘list’ of ingredients for _reference_.

“If I could remember if I could do it with an _ounce_ less, I would.”

“Obtaining the recipe for ziedrich is likely worth the price, of course.” Spoke the young man like the obscenely rich asshole he really was at heart, glancing up to catch the weapons maker’s wry smirk and shamelessly ignoring the reminder that not everyone was practically drowning in gil like he was. “You do not believe so?”

“The reputation gain is more than I can judge,” he allowed, flipping a wrist without moving his arms crossed on top of the back of Veld’s uncomfortable visitor chairs to dismiss that, “but the alloy itself? There’s… _quite_ a few drawbacks to the damn finicky shit. The steep price of just the _materials_ to make it, for one. Then, well… it can’t be melted down and reused _as_ ziedrich. It’ll be a strong alloy still, of course, but if you overwhelm the ‘lattice’ that provides that elemental protection to achieve smelting… that’s it. The elemental resistance is gone. Unless you separate out the metals again, and then go through the trouble of acquiring the materials to try anew. I’ve never bothered.”

“Scarlet.”

He pointed behind him without looking, aware he wasn’t pointing at his best friend. “Your wife’s ring is different. I said _smelt_. Wire drawing the curls I reamed out of yours might’ve warped some of the elemental protection… but I don’t remember testing it. See if you can sneak it in by claiming the smith wants a look to be sure it’s holding up to wear for a day, because yeah I really would _and_ her ring sounds like a filigree. There’s less there.”

Rufus pretended momentary interest in the glossy unmarked surface of Veld’s desk reflecting harsh white lights, looking back up when it seemed the Director of Turks was satisfied with that. “Could you clarify ‘lattice’ for me, Scarlet?”

“It’s _actually_ more an alchemy recipe than anything, disgustingly enough. Wrapping a lunar curtain in a light one tightly then fold into a triangle of all shit, pour a dram of frozen nail acid over it and let soak until it all dissolves to a fibrous mess easily parted out in seventy-eight equal measures. Basically _threads._ That’s the _base._ You got a piece?”

“Not on me, no.”

Veld took exactly three measured steps, set his wedding ring on his desk, and took three measured steps back to where he was lurking.

Rufus arched a fine-blond eyebrow, examining the tiny bit of ziedrich of a size to fit a man’s hand gleaming in the too-strong Shin-Ra standard company lights installed overhead.

“If you can see it, there’s _three_ separate colors in this.” Tipping it up so he could point and be sure of what he was pointing at, Scarlet tapped a rough-cut nail against all three colors. “Not bleeding into one another, clearly distinct colors. This refracturing visual effect on a curved surface? _Layers_. Powdered scales of a serpent and heavy tank buffers between them where the metal meets, the mush of acid dissolved curtains to direct the ‘magic’ in the effect bridges them from one end to another, acrophies blood tempered in to hold it all together. _While_ adding in careful layers of the three metals from three specific races of monsters sheet by sheet. _Paper thin sheets._ _Then_ you must quench it in two cups of grashtrike carapace powder wetted with an _entire vial_ of hero’s drink in about one to four parts mix to pure mako. Also, if there _isn’t_ any cactuar wood in the forge while all this is going on… well, you’ve got about a fifty-fifty shot of getting an actual bit of Eos alloy. That’s _not including_ the _item_ forged, just making the alloy. And, as you can’t smelt it down, you must forge the armor _while_ balancing all that in equal parts at the same time. Kid you _not_ … I’ll take about sixteen hours all total from lighting the forge to finishing with the quench to maybe make a _chest plate_.”

Looking back at him, the young man silently raised the other eyebrow.

“ _Did hold apart by the scales of heaven and earth, wrapp’d in the threads of divine grace, did bind by the blood of the flote_. There’s _lyrics_ I had to decipher to figure out the _cactuar_ bit. You won’t _believe_ the utter ridiculousness I had to jump through with some archeologists to get even a _hint_ of what monster-made metal each of them was. It’s in _parts_ , I had to collect an entire scrapbook of flowery prose and nauseating praise of themselves for being so clever while learning the ‘right’ way to forge the shit… then I promptly _burned the fucker_ once I had the whole recipe because _fuck that noise._ ”

Having asked exactly _two_ questions about a several million gil expenditure in acquiring mostly monster parts, just for Scarlet to get his mastery after not doing it himself for however many years, Rufus smirked. “Well. I am satisfied. I’d like a bangle of it if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure, kid. You _are_ paying for it after all.” Leaning backwards to give Veld his wedding ring back, the weapons maker slanted a vicious grin at the young man as he resettled back in place. “And that’s one.”

“…that you will have _me_ pay for.” Rufus scoffed, affecting a mildly annoyed air as he glowered darkly across the desktop. “That is not quite what a ‘present’ means, Scarlet.”

“Fancy that.”

“I still have seven more.”

“Pretty sure one of them is a shotgun of some bizarrely complex make, I’m currently in the middle of _manufacturing_ materia for your future company you can of _course_ ask something specific of when we know how, I’m fucking _here_ aren’t it? And then… don’t think Verdot’s going to let me go off and get you a monster cub, so raincheck or a substitution of a like ‘gift’. You _might_ like a few of the tiny hidden gun designs I know… let’s see. Five? Nope, six.”

“I already got in that you could not claim your presence in the company as a gift, Scarlet.”

“Not quite what I mean, Shin-Ra brat. I’m _vaguely_ sane. For once. Who knows why?”

The young man was _utterly_ unimpressed with him, folding his white-clad arms across his chest. “That is your argument for stealing yet _another_ gift from me?”

“Well… there’s also telling you _exactly_ how I can forge Eos alloy without claiming ‘trade secret’ and not telling you shit. You’re _technically_ not my boss yet. Seven now.”

Rufus regarded him intently.

Scarlet kept his mouth shut for once, entirely aware he was still missing one.

“You don’t normally allow me to pick.”

“I don’t _normally_ suffer a psychotic break and unintentionally abandon people I like for a decade, either. I know full well you were probably the best help Verdot had for the longest time, and I not only owe you for helping him with me but for just _existing_.”

The kid who once could have had _anything_ in the world given to him but the few things that mattered at all to him pondered it. “SOLDIER Rhapsodos has a uniquely singular bit of materia, that Director Verdot has informed me you gave him.”

Selfish, greedy little asshole. “I gave him a _Support_ Materia. Guess you’d prefer a _unique_ Magic Materia better?”

Rufus regarded him as if Scarlet was only _just_ a bit dim. “If you _can_ , of course… you’ve been ‘out of touch’ for quite a while…”

Little shit. “There’s a white chocobo chick… think she might be grown now? In my home village of Mideel. Her mama had been a red, so she strutted after me entirely too much. I gave her a naturally formed bit of Contain Materia to ‘guard’ for me so she’d not fucking throw a fit just before I left… you give her a mimett green and scratch her ear, she’ll give you the materia.”

Then the chocobo would probably find herself a new one to cluck at, the daft albino chicken-ostrich monster thing. He originally gave her his bits of Ice and Lightning to hold onto for him to get her to shut up instead of warble sadly when he was off learning to smith, then all of a sudden she had that Contain Materia somehow when he hadn’t been looking and smugly gave it to him when he fed her next in their ‘habit’ of trading materia back and forth.

The stupid, bewildering, magic water-walking, feathered _menace_ that once kicked him in the face… took him a bit to remember her _._ In his ‘childhood’ she was the village’s newest chocobo for emergencies, usually involving _dashing across the sea_ to one of the mainland towns for medicine or to import a doctor for a bit when there was that life or death level of accident happening. Somewhere in her genetics was a gold chocobo, and as the line had yet to lose the ‘ocean walking’ ability the headman of Mideel still kept her even if her feathers were white.

“And what, Scarlet, is _Contain_ Materia magic?”

“First spell was fucking _ice_ , Freeze I think. Second? _Earth_ , Break spell. It apparently does multiple elemental magics, and the shit actually _stops_ monsters when you Freeze them. Petrifies when you use the earth spell. Who knows what else it can do? Didn’t take it with me because… it takes a _lot_ of magic to cast even one of those spells, and while the status effects were nice I needed monster parts that weren’t ‘tainted’ with other magic for my work.”

Considering it for a moment, the blond cut his eyes over to where Veld was probably lurking while this meeting was going on.

“I’ll send Tseng to fetch it immediately, Rufus.”

“Then I’ll ensure to give you a comprehensive list of the features I would like in my new shotgun, Scarlet. And yes, I’ll accept a small gun I can strap to my left wrist for emergencies full of all the little touches you seem to be able to stuff such little toys with. A Gravity or Destruct Materia when there is one, from your current work will do.” That nasty, shitty little smirk was back as the young man lounged in the Turk of Turks’ own office chair like a little spoiled princeling he was. “As for the ‘equivalence’ of a monster cub… you are _not to_ quit before I can take over.”

“Thought about it, honestly. But, until Verdot’s satisfied I’m no longer ‘at risk’ and stable I ain’t going anywhere as it is. If you _insist_ , I’ll stay past that at least as long as that takeover will take.”

“ _And_ three years past that, even if you are declared sane _tomorrow_.” Rufus demanded shortly, irritated to hell and back by this idea of his. “While we all know my _father_ is less than… shall we say, _competent_ , _I_ do not wish to immediately lose _my_ head weapons maker because of his heavy-handed _behemoth shit_.”

While tempted to argue that down to two years, Scarlet didn’t because he _did_ like the snotty little shit who once wheedled and demanded _more time_ from him than ask for anything else. “If you _insist_ so, Shin-Ra brat. Happy now?”

“Adequately.”

“Happy multiple birthdays, then.”

Rufus smirked like the asshole he was at heart. “I have another coming up, Scarlet.”

“I’ll try to be sane for it this time.”

* * *

To be bluntly, _brutally_ honest… Scarlet had no idea what language he was even speaking anymore.

There were several dialects of the base language he spoke now, regional differences that probably just need one or two linguistic shifts more to become their own distinct languages.

It _probably_ wouldn’t happen now, everyone in Shin-Ra spoke Midgardian. President shitty old man spoke Midgardian all his life, therefore the sprawling company that he gave his name to _also_ only solely spoke and used Midgardian for everything they did. Which held true even for places like Kalm and Junon, they had probably lost their regional differences sometime in the last few decades in favor of the company’s ‘official’ dialect. Which spread out from there until, from Icicle Inn to ‘Banora’, everyone spoke something at least similar enough to be widely understood everywhere.

Except for Wutai. The island-nation had its own language, wildly different from the ‘mainland’ dialects enough to have been a divergence from _centuries_ ago if there was any commonality between them at all.

He _spoke_ Midgardian, without any effort just like he had English once, but at this point Scarlet barely had any clue what the differences were or if he knew what they had ever been in the first place because it had either supplanted English in his mind or was so similar to not be different at all.

Was it _possible_ to forget your native language?

 _Reading_ it was a separate problem, but a problem he had a handle on and could do it decently well. He once had a hobby of reading or digging up ancient legends from all four corners of the Planet, he could figure out the meanings eventually when he stumbled over weirdly written words with only a few tools at hand. Mainly a dictionary these days, but once he usually chatted with archeologists wandering the world too and traded some forge-time on their behalf for a definition of an obscure term or three.

Most of whom… were probably retired or dead by now. Unlike miners, archeologists didn’t tend to have things like ‘permanent camps’ to share the burden of keeping each other safe in or the gil to hire on their own bodyguards for years-long trips around the world to see what there was to find still. They _also_ very rarely had addresses or returned to any one location to pick up mail from, most of them probably wandered until accident or monster ended them.

Might be different now, Shin-Ra probably bought a lot of their translated works to hoard away in that obscenely stocked Archive the company kept. But back then?

Regional spoken dialects also meant _regional differences in spelling_ , sometimes _regional_ specific symbols for certain letters or group of letters or just sounds, and ten-twelve years of not reading or writing shit before he left Mideel made him only vaguely sure half the letters he knew how to write were the same from a previous lifetime.

He generally just _mostly_ got the point of whatever he was reading and filled in the blanks with what made the most sense or got off his ass and looked it up in a dictionary.

Reading was not too much of an issue even if was sort of one, but writing anything himself?

Any professor of writing or ‘Midgardian’ would probably _weep in shame_ at his handwriting and the probable many varied spelling mistakes or ‘antique glyphs’ peppering his words like a blindly aimed spread of grapeshot across a page.

Languages were _not_ his thing, then he went and made it harder on himself by seeking out and attempting to translate ‘old’ dialects and Cetra writings into something he could understand back when he was still just shit at _writing_. Then he fucking _used them_ instead when he couldn’t remember what the written Midgardian or Mideel terms were spelled for the same idea, object, thought, or concept.

Then his dumb ass went and learned a scattering of _other_ region-specific terms on the road just to read the local versions of the world map while he was on his way somewhere else.

Hindsight. It sucked to realize his handwriting was likely nearly _incomprehensible_ to anyone else.

It wasn’t even _his own_ realization. Veld had a _translator on staff already_ for translating the list he wrote him, probably nearby and able to make decipherable copies of his messy shit because the Director of Advanced Weaponry could not be asked to clean it up for anyone else to read when it was debatable which days he even _remembered_ what words were spelled how in whichever dialect.

If _he_ could read his own writing Scarlet hadn’t ever really bothered looking up the ‘proper’ terms and spelling for the concepts he noted down, or at least he didn’t ever remember doing so. Now that he was reading all the damn reports he mostly couldn’t remember signing off on, and that _was_ his utterly bewildering hodgepodge of symbols that generally translated to ‘Crimson-haired’ or ‘Scarlet’ or ‘the Red’ on the bottom of the paperwork in all the right places, he was kind of wishing he spent a _little_ time on cleaning up his shitty writing skills before he promptly lost his mind when whatever happened.

By that _fucking Goddess_ … you practically needed a whole _cryptology office_ to understand his handwriting, it sucked worse than a _doctor’s._ That was, if you weren’t already well informed of the regional accent variants from around the world and had a whole separate _doctorate_ degree in ‘Ancient Cetra Dialects’ to go with to make sense of it.

He knew why no one had sat him down in front of a literature professor equipped with a steel ruler before this, fixing his shitty handwriting was an exercise in futility until the point he could be relied upon to _recall_ any ‘corrections’.

Didn’t mean realizing the issue and attempting a fix didn’t piss him off.

“Director? Are you… are _you_ reading a _dictionary?”_

“Shut up, Tanis.” He was _not,_ he was looking something up.

If Scarlet wrote out how he thought a term should be spelled blindly, then looked up the ‘proper’ spelling… and then wrote the proper spelling about fifty times, the differences might stick in his head.

It might not, too.

He couldn’t know until he tried it, and this ‘lesson’ might need repeating six or seven hundred times before he’ll fucking _remember_ how all these words were _supposed_ to be spelled in modern Midgardian. _Before_ any real use in the attempt was figured out, or before he could even write a legible sentence someone else _could_ fucking read without an archology or linguistic heavy background.

Scarlet was a mess. The thought he knew like the familiar dimness of his own workshop was both _utterly true_ and _severely understating_ his many issues at the same time.

He only _might_ be able to fix this one, and it was such a minor thing it was depressing that it was probably the best that he’d be _able_ to do for however long.

Which might not even be worth it, in time.

“Hey, rock-head? How does _anyone_ read my damn handwriting?”

“Uh… me? I get the job of translating your shit. And _man_ , fishy-boy? The shit you give me to go along with your tinkering? _Basically_ unreadable.” The Corel native grinned brightly in his face, setting a whole _set_ of paperwork in Scarlet’s ‘in box’ after probably collecting them from another floor as it was the end of the workday for one shift. “But then again, I’m _awesome_ and can usually figure out what you wrote me eventually. I’ve even made a _short-hand_ reference list for the bits you use the most.”

Scarlet did in fact have an office, and a desk. It never failed to surprise him when he went into it, and that the fact people gave him paperwork. Because… _really?_

Did he _ever_ get around to doing it when out of his own damn mind?

He must, he didn’t remotely _remember_ signing any of these older papers stuffed in here for on-going projects and their histories as various teams ran into new stumbling blocks or some were developed in suddenly different ways.

There was a whole row of filing cabinets stuffed silly lining three walls, a desk with an office chair, and a lamp to enable his avoidance of the overly bright ceiling light overhead. It was _practically_ barren otherwise with bare metal walls and no pictures in frames or otherwise decorating the space, and it was the first place he arrived every damn day to clear out that little ‘in box’ of shit he had to go through as the Director of the Advanced Weaponry Division.

Then he’d file it all into his many filing cabinets because he couldn’t trust his mind to retain shit.

There were exactly _three_ books in the office, all three were _dictionaries_ of ‘Midgardian to regional dialects’ of varying flavors. All of them, _all_ , were well thumbed and ragged from repeated use.

The texts were _current to this year_.

 _Tanis_ was the one to translate his handwriting, which half the damn time he might not even _be_ able to read it himself after another ‘episode’?

“…you _have to_ have something in ‘Ancient writing’ to read my shit.”

“Yep. Even that much doesn’t always help, but _yeah_. I do.”

Reeve did it too, or at least understood enough of Scarlet’s handwriting to not need sixteen questions on what certain terms were or why it was studded with long disused ancient symbols instead of the more widely accepted ‘modernized’ variants. Without, probably, any familiarity of the weapons maker’s handwriting before that very moment and to a point he understood enough _at a glance_ to be reassured in his intentions on asking him those first three questions.

“Do you _translate_ my writing for others?”

“I am the reigning ‘Director Scarlet’s handwriting’ expert, thank you.” The sub-department head of Advanced Weaponry insisted, as if that was a mark of achievement.

Looking back down at the mess he had tried to put together some hours ago for one of his many teams of engineers and techs to clarify a question he had after reading their reports, he had to give the other man it was probably something to boast of. “I didn’t… drive anyone _mad_ from this shit, did I?”

“The guy before me was practically _frothing_ at the mouth at your unreasonably tricky handwriting that shifts with what you _can_ remember to use, but he wasn’t mad. Aside, you know, _pissed off_ he couldn’t keep up with your terminology and vocabulary usage as it shifts from _all_ fucking over to ancient dialects and back again two or three regions away at will.”

Yeah, he couldn’t blame the poor guy.

 _Scarlet_ was a bit pissed off at his own sloppy handwriting too.

“I’m trying to fix it.”

“Thank _God._ Or whichever one of them that isn’t actually a summons.”

“Goddess.” He absently responded, going back to trying to find the exact term he suspected he had horribly misspelled in actual Midgardian. “Her name’s Minerva.”

“…what, _really?”_

“Yep. ‘Earth-Goddess’, or the ‘Gaia Goddess’, depending on how you want to translate that. Not a summons, _Titan’s_ the only earth elemental summons.”

“Huh. Thank the _Goddess_ , then.”

“Rather not, thanks.”

Tanis remained silent long enough Scarlet actually thought the guy had left, so when a hand suddenly pulled down the dictionary he was almost certain he had found the term he was looking for in... he was admittedly a bit surprised. “Director, I’ve never heard that before and I _studied_ Ancient Scripts and their variations before I became an engineer.”

“There’s… there’s a temple near Mideel, Tanis. Not _Hers_ , but it’s full of shit. Basically a death-trap crawling with monsters intended to kill anyone that stupid, so getting inside isn’t worth it but the outside has carvings and words about _why_ they built a temple like that.”

The Coral native’s eyebrows flew upwards, and the guy let go of his dictionary. “Huh. Didn’t know that one either…”

“It’s not like we ever found any _other_ Ancient Forgotten City. There’s enough parts of this world we can’t even _reach_ without mechanical help that there’s possibly tons we haven’t yet found.”

“ _What_ city? _Other?”_

“…there’s a what now?” Grimacing as something ugly and entirely too familiar suddenly started throbbing in the back of his head, Scarlet disgustedly discarded the book of entirely too tiny print he wouldn’t be able to focus on anymore to his desk drawer. “Shit, Tanis. You just gave me a fucking _headache._ ”

“Headache or _migraine_ , Director?”

“I’ll let you know tomorrow.” Not entirely sure why the difference mattered, his head now hurt too much to ask anyways, he put his forehead on his solid metal desk and covered it with his arms to try blocking out the bulk of the light. Then he tried not to think, for as much good as that did. “What the _hell_ were you _asking_ , Tanis?”

The man didn’t immediately answer, which was kind of weird in and of itself. “Just idle chatter, Director. Sorry about that. Anything you want me to tell Director Verdot?”

“Hi, I guess. Still sane, maybe? _You’re_ the motherfucker reporting on my ass, aren’t you?”

“Yep!”

If Tanis was familiar enough with the Turks to expect to and indeed probably did talk to Veld directly, then Scarlet wouldn’t be able to get _much_ revenge for the aggravation of multiple Tseng-visits when he forgot to sleep.

Oh… he’d get himself some, probably with the _most_ antique and utterly near _incomprehensible_ gobbledygook he knew that could possibly be something legible with enough research from wildly separate corners of the fucking _Planet._

Which wouldn’t be legible at all in truth.

“I fucking _hate you_.”

“No you don’t, Director. I’m the only one in the company that can _read_ your handwriting, both you _and_ Director Verdot won’t ever _dream_ of dropping me for anything. See you tomorrow!”


	13. Chapter 13

Since he _was_ a scrawny wreck of a mentally ill blacksmith and had probably three sixteen hour or so marathons of whacking hot metal together coming up, once he finished his paperwork for the day Scarlet tried to drag his ass up several floors to 64 to work on his physical health for a few hours.

When he could remember to do it. Wasn’t always the case, honestly.

64 held a gym for high-level corporate employees among the amenities, a sleeping cubicle and two gender separated multi-person bathrooms that included showerheads just for example. Unlike the common gym level in Public Safety’s floors, or the in-building sparring rooms mostly used by the Infantry/SOLDIERs, there were less people up here and more of the equipment were regularly available.

This was also more often where you could find a Turk or two off-duty and polishing up their own physical fitness, since otherwise the gym was practically unused by anyone high enough in Shin-Ra’s corporate ranks who could gain access to it.

Apparently, once you had a cushy enough job that paid high enough some idiots let their fighting skills wane to nothing.

Scarlet might actually be one of those right now, but he didn’t intend to stay that way.

Shotgun took pity on him and braided his hair for him this morning, a fellow islander from Mideel and a hunting prodigy the Turks recruited probably a couple years ago. “Seriously, sir, _rubber bands_ are not _hair ties._ ”

“If it works… besides, I have more rubber bands than I do any damn hair ties.” She looked _vaguely_ familiar, not herself _personally_ but all that blonde hair of a sandy-shade and tawny-brown eyes kind of reminded him of the headsman back in their native village. “How the _hell_ does one braid their own hair?”

If it were _wire_ and _in front_ of him, he wouldn’t have a damn issue. Adding in blind braiding behind his own head… he sucked.

“Practice. Try braiding your hair before bed, eventually you’ll get good at it.” She informed him brightly, flipping the finished rope of red hair over his shoulder to show off her skills with long hair and her neat braiding skills, and the loaned hair tie binding the more ragged end of strands together near the end of his hair. “You _seriously_ need a trim, Director.”

“ _Tell me_ about it.” But he couldn’t because Veld said so. “Thanks, Shotgun. Sorry for interrupting your run.”

“I got in my two klicks.” Boasted the bubbly Turk, leaving him on a weight bench to collect her water bottle and the little music device she had been listening to before stopping to help him with his hair struggles. “You can keep the hair tie, sir. I’ll even pick you up a couple more. They’re cheap. Good morning, Director Verdot!”

Surprised, though he wasn’t exactly sure why, Scarlet dropped the braid his hair was in and glanced over to the entrance of the gym. There was indeed a Turk of Turks there just inside the door, still dressed in a suit and tie with leather loafers so only _probably_ not here to pump iron too. “Hey, man. Don’t _think_ I forgot to do anything… did I?”

Veld gave him a rather weird look, which on the scale of ‘you idiot’ to ‘I want to wring your neck’ it wasn’t even a blip.

…so, he guessed he was on eight in weird events now?

“Shotgun.”

“Sir?”

“Clear out for a few minutes. And prevent anyone from entering.”

“Yes, sir!”

Should he be concerned or something?

“Scarlet.”

“Hold up, I’m trying to recall if I did anything to need to be worried about.”

“ _My wife’s wedding ring._ ”

“…oh yeah.” He _did_ do a filigree for an emerald solitaire, apparently, which he was surprisingly not sour about having done. Probably because he possibly decided to do it himself.

Wasn’t like he remembered, after all.

He took the offered bit of jewelry to inspect, noting with wry amusement that it _was_ a solid bit of ziedrich just like Veld’s. No _wonder_ the man was irritable about bringing it in for him to get a look at, leaving his lady without her elemental protection for the day would make a lesser spy snappish.

Examining the latticework of _tiny_ vine-patterned wire in three different tones carefully woven around the rectangular-cut gemstone to hold it in place and secure it to the ring’s band, the wild plant-patterned metal compacted down both sides and the edges of the tiny ivy leaf decorations tipping a few wires turned carefully inwards to prevent catching fabric or skin with all those sharp tips…

You couldn’t _do that_ with gold or silver, for the leaves to have _lasted_ even a few days without breaking off…? Eos alloy was significantly tougher than most pure metal types and it showed plainly in this little piece.

He was suddenly, _desperately_ glad he didn’t remember making the rings. The motif of leaves on Veld’s now made more sense with an emerald stone he gave his wife, but the _fiddly_ tiny space he apparently left himself to work in between all the ‘vine’ wires?

The _tiny as shit_ ivy leaves?

There weren’t any visible welds, and without prying up those delicate looking metal ivy leaves and the ‘vine’ wire he probably covered any attachment site with he honestly didn’t know how he got it to stick securely together. The filigree didn't slide around the ring band in either direction, nor did him trying to wiggle it back and forth give the thinner decoration any observable tilt work. It was as solid as a ring as his best friend's more simple leaf patterned band.

“This’ll give about as much protection as yours should. I think. The filigree _is_ a separate piece from the ring itself… hopefully I did the wire work while it was all still hot. I was a little concerned the _entire_ thing was wire. I apparently did two ring blanks or a long one I sawed in half… how the _hell_ did I get the materials for this?”

“You _did_ have supplies _with you_ all those years ago.” Veld informed him simply, taking back his wife’s ring which _didn’t_ show a spot of wear for however long it had been worn for. “You requested and utilized those supplies for the rings… although I will admit I had not realized what all those pouches of powders and metal canisters of liquid really were, aside from metallic additives a blacksmith might need in their work and never had them identified after one very nearly burned the tips of my fingers off. I believe it was your store of ‘frozen nail acid’ from the _freezing_ burn I experienced. One of them _did_ contain raw mako, the only glass bottle you had with you, and the rest were of some sort of metallic shade regardless if it was liquid or powdered. The cactuar wood was unexpected, but then again you had just returned from the Corel Desert…”

…because he had been trying to find a less expensive recipe, right. “You should still get one of your lady Turks to test exactly how much elemental protection it gives, before you give it back to your main lady. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy with how well they’ve been standing up to wear.”

Monster parts apparently never really lost their potency, then. Or it took longer than… however many years since he hunted the supplies himself and when he forged the alloy together to make the blanks for the wedding rings.

“The fact the rings are impossible to dent helps.” His best friend informed him without commenting on the advice, which he already long since did or accepted to figure out later.

“Once it hardens after being forged, ziedrich is good about staying in the shape it was given. _Cutting_ and reaming it out to size then drawing the shavings into usable wire for that filigree, on the other hand? Kind of glad I don’t remember. The quench must be done pretty quick after you finish forging whatever bit, and you can’t really _build up_ a ring shape. Probably did a cylinder, fuck that must have _sucked_ cutting the damn thing apart.”

Veld accepted that as matter of factly as everything else to do with Scarlet’s faulty memory, secreting his wife’s ring back into an inner suit pocket to hide until he gave it back to the lady that owned it. “I did have another reason to seek you out, if you would humor me.”

“If it has anything to do with the migraine Tanis gave me yesterday, I don’t want to. I was having a _good_ day, Verdot.”

The Turk of Turks pulled out a Remedy pill pouch and spilled a few out on a palm to give him.

…he swallowed them dry, already regretting getting up today. “What’s so urgent?”

“While I might know the vast majority of what ‘trauma’ you suffered and the extent of damage to your mind, I do not know nearly enough to have everything. Tanis reported you informed him of an ‘Ancient Forgotten City’, and mostly got through speaking the thought before your migraine resurfaced.”

…a forgotten _Cetra_ city?

The Cetra didn’t have a whole lot of physical structures left behind, they were a _nomadic_ race of people that went wherever the fuck they wanted and could survive perfectly well anywhere. Hunters and gatherers, while the other humanoid race went agrarian and built up multiple villages to concentrate their efforts of defending themselves. Something the Ancients _could do_ for most of their lives, seeing as they as a race had internal magical control to a degree no longer seen in anything but the more powerful monster races.

Didn’t mean there _weren’t_ any physical structures built by them, or random camping gear left where the owners abandoned them from death or in the caches of supplies secreted around the world for others to pull from if they lost or damaged their own.

That there apparently _was_ a city wasn’t _unexpected_ , the existence of it had been a commonly accepted factoid without any supporting evidence since _before_ Scarlet started wandering around poking things to be found on the Planet.

Confused and a little bewildered at this topic but without any pain that signified major holes in his memory, he reported that absently to the other man as he strained to figure out why the topic might’ve hurt his brain to think on it. Then decided to expand a little with what he knew from other methods that weren’t from this lifetime, mainly just to see if that left him in screaming pain.

“…on the _condition_ none of this gets back to that fat-fucking shitty old man, Verdot… there’s a forest up near the Great Glacier. Cold boreal forest… there’s _no monsters_ in there. There are past the forest, and in the valley right _next_ to it, but not in there. If you try to walk through that forest? You don’t, just end up with a bit of lost time right back at where you started from.”

“Right next to Bone Village, then.”

“…next to what now?” Surprised again, but thankfully the mild ache at the back of his head hadn’t protested or tried kicking his brain in its non-existent teeth yet, Scarlet refocused on his best friend now sitting across from him on another weightlifting bench. “What, the hell, is a _Bone_ Village?”

“Scarlet, you helped _found_ it. An archeology dig site for Ancient items or massive fossils of a rather alarming size.”

“I… did?” News to him, frankly. “Huh… wonder who all is there?”

That was… a lot better than he had been afraid of after realizing how much time he had lost. Perhaps some of the archeologists he once knew had survived the decade?

“I can obtain you a census record if you wish to know.” Veld rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We will return to that, later-“

“No. No _wait._ Verdot… I think… I’m remembering different memories each day. _Not_ the same partial set.”

This _wasn’t_ something he had already known, given the suddenly laser-like intensity Scarlet was treated to. “How?”

“Reading. No, other end of reading. My _handwriting_ , even reading it back earlier today? I can _barely_ figure out what _know_ I wrote yesterday. Which means what terms I remember how to spell or use right is _different_ from what I recalled yesterday. But… I… didn’t, don’t notice?”

“Given the _mess_ your notations are all in, I am unsurprised.” Still pondering it over in his significantly less broken mind, the Turk eventually nodded slowly. “I can easily see how I missed that complication, unexpected but not entirely so. I will remember.”

“It’s not _intentional_ , I attempted to try fixing it… but I don’t think I’ll work if I don’t remember I did anything or what the problem even _is_ -”

“I _understand_ , I will remember for you. Your handwriting is an _old_ problem, Scarlet. One we can adapt around and have with minimal concerns.”

“Did Tanis _come_ with an engineering interest, or did he eventually just join in after you hired him for that?”

“He was uniquely suited for the job.” Veld dryly informed him of absolutely nothing while still answering the question, a Turk skill he kind of envied. “Returning to the subject, Scarlet? The forest?”

“The Sleeping Forest.” Slightly more than just frustrated with his own faulty memory, he rubbed the back of his neck under his new braid tiredly and tried to clarify as best he could. “That’s where we, the archeologists I spoke to once back when I _wasn’t_ a headcase, think the city is. Where they’d… I guess go, once the Ancients were old or sick or needed to take a break from their ‘guarding’ to raise kids safely. I’m _pretty_ sure we’re missing a key or whatever to get past the effects of that forest, hence why they started digging at the roots trying to find anything. Hey… I _did_ help found a dig-site.”

“Hmm… and your migraine?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t hurt to think about it.”

“I will inform Rufus of this information.”

“Feel free.” The _technicalities_ his best friend jumped through to both keep Scarlet trusting him _and_ do his job as he saw fit as a very loyal man… might’ve given lesser men pause, but of course the Turk of Turks kept it all straight. “The brat doesn’t have his head shoved so far up his own ass he’d ruin whatever’s left in a crazy search for a ‘promise land’ we’re all fairly sure doesn’t physically exist. It’s _probably_ a concept of their afterlife, and that’s just retarded to race heedless of anything to find.”

“While I may not personally respect the President as a man… he is _still_ the owner of the company, Scarlet.”

“I’ll keep my thoughts to myself, as much as I can. I _understand_ why you’re so loyal to the fat-fuck that pulled all this together, Verdot. Or, at least, the people you have here that trust you back. I just don’t like the company as it is under him as much as you do.”

Veld regarded him with skepticism.

“We _all could_ be better than this.” Scarlet offered rather dryly himself now. “But, as a corporate entity instead of a government of a village getting too big for their britches? Sure, why the hell not. I’d still prefer Rufus, so when it happens don’t be _too_ surprised if I throw a Division-wide party.”

“…indeed. I expect invitations for my own.”

“We can also invite the Urban Development guys and _bewilder_ everyone else. Especially hurdy-gurdy and palm-frond, I’m not inviting them no matter what.”

“Not the SOLDIERs?”

Blinking slowly, the weapons maker _cursed_ in the head Turk’s mildly affronted face. “Fucking shitty _hell_ , remind me I owe Reeve an apology. Apparently I fucking _need_ frequent reminders or I’ll forget the brats without them here and not letting themselves be forgettable. Shit, did he get any letters back from Sephiroth yet?”

“I will pass on your question.” Without needing to glance at any notes himself or pause to recall another topic over what he’d remember perfectly to recall in order to inform the younger Shin-Ra, he continued to poke at what Scarlet could or couldn’t remember to see what happened. “The topic Tanis informed me of before your switch to a Forgotten City was of two temples.”

“…you _don’t_ want to go there.” Holding up a finger before the man had to prompt him for more, he strained to remember why he knew that. “The temple, there’s only one. It’s… _basically_ built to kill everything that tries. There are _corpses_ there, Verdot, from the idiots that ignored the warnings and tried thinking _they_ wouldn’t fall the same exact fucking way. I was… I think… twelve? Before I left Mideel as a journeyman smith, but not the first time I left the islands. Don’t know _why_ I went, I know. Knew? It was nothing but a trap. Overrun with monsters now, there’s little there that’s worth it.”

“Then why was it _built?”_

Scarlet thought about it, somewhat sure he should know the reason and certain he had thought about it recently. It wasn’t just the black materia… “…it was an _anathema_ to them. They _hated it_ , that it existed at all, equally as they respected the _hell_ out of what it was for. The Cetra considered themselves _guardians_ , stewards of the Planet. But, as they _were_ and it _is_ , they did as asked. Equally so, being who they were, they knew it had a reason to be even if it went against _every_ Cetra sensibility. So they built the temple as a death-trap, intending on no one being able to reach it unless utter painful death was a preferable option than whatever else. It would kill those selfishly looking for power, and yet still be available for those desperately seeking succor.”

Veld slightly leaned back, thoughtful. “A failsafe?”

“…yes. A _world-wide_ one, intended to stop _everything_ no matter what it is. Let’s… not spread that one around. Pretty sure it’s a trigger to an extinction event. Of… everything. Or at least, that’s what they knew it to be.”

“I do not believe anyone would benefit from learning of that.” The Turk allowed for, sounding faintly sarcastic. “The _other_ temple, Scarlet. The one ‘not Hers’.”

“…not?” This _was_ a hole, but not a painful one. Slowly raising another finger to join the first he had forgotten he had up, he strained to see what he could piece together around the gaping edges of his memory. “There’s… no, not a temple. It’s a _lock._ ”

“Why a lock?”

“Because She’s _there_. You can find Her if you know enough.”

The skeptical man he called a best friend snorted slightly. “A religious place?”

“…I thought _She_ was a pre-summons.” Scarlet admitted slowly, not sure of the snippet of thought was a memory or something he thought about once. “You know, since Leviathan and Bahamut aren’t _remotely_ humanoid-looking and summons are frequently and repeatedly mistaken as actual gods in various places around the Planet. They’re _legendary_ entities, sure. Probably of a past age when that kind of personal power was _possible_ or in need of, equally as possibly they’re Cetra who once existed and the memory of them are passed along in those red materia. Maybe they got warped a bit over the centuries.”

“… _memory_ in materia?” Veld questioned him, ironing out his skepticism to nothing even if the redhead was _entirely aware_ the man was not a spiritual-type of a man. “That’s… a unique theory, Scarlet.”

“They _always_ are summoned _exactly the same._ They do the _exact same thing_ every time. While we can twist and alter _magic_ for various aims, aim it at a target and use tiny bits rather than a full spell. Fuck, man, you used to _light_ the campfire with a Fire that didn’t blow up all the wood with how hard you could hit monsters with the same spell. Something, or someone, remembers what they are when no one else does. Has anyone found Shiva yet?”

“Why ‘Shiva’?”

“Because her legend is still intact, and I know that one. Shiva’s the one that froze the Northern Great Glacier, and why it doesn’t ever melt. It _should_ , temperatures are high enough you can go there with maybe a layer or two and stay perfectly warm for at least a few hours while your boots freeze solid… but the ice isn’t melting with the thawing temperatures eating at it against everything we know of thermal dynamics. Magical ice still melts if it exists long enough in reality that the surrounding temperatures have the time to act on it. A great ice-magic work that has _lasted_ however long to _defy nature_ , and a great _Ice Magic Summons_. She was legendarily once a Cetra woman with a phenomenally powerful natural magic of an ice nature. Somehow, a little red ball of crystalized mako _remembers_ her and her ice-natured ability. Enough to pull a _copy_ of her into life once given enough magic. Shiva’s _dead_ , Verdot. This was _centuries upon centuries ago_ when she froze a chunk of land that we know as the Great Glacier now.”

The man stared at him for a long, silent moment. “Is there any reason to believe the legend came into existence _before_ Shiva the Summons was known to exist? Or was it the _summons_ that froze the Glacier?”

“Very good question, who the fuck knows. But the other one? No. The summons only do _one_ or supposedly _two_ things, have only a limited awareness of who’s the enemy in whatever summoning even if they can freely move to _attack_ whatever it is, and once they go back to wherever that’s _it_ besides the destruction or death they were called for. Fires burn out, the ice melts, water drains away, so on. Temporary. Shiva the Summons _cannot_ be the one that froze the Great Glacier, her magic just wouldn’t last long enough past her summoning.”

“Was there an Ancient woman named _after_ a summons for her ice-natured abilities?”

“Again, who the fuck knows. The records didn’t exactly _last_ all that well since they were written, and I can’t go ask a Cetra now. Could try asking a summons… but I don’t know if that would work. Everyone just uses them to attack shit, not to see what they can say.”

“While a fascinating diversion,” Veld decided after a moment to think and _likely_ after privately calling him a religious nut-case in the safety of his own head, “this does not seem to also be a topic that pains you to recall, Scarlet.”

“I rather _appreciate_ that, the migraines are rather painful as they are without aggravating them.”

The Turk of Turks nodded simply, unsurprised by his claim probably more than just simply because he had heard it before. “Undoubtedly, though that leaves us with an unknown topic to avoid…”

“See… I _remember_ some? But not all. I _know_ there’s something I’m not remembering. Like, I _remember_ telling Rufus how to _get_ Contain but not _how_ to get it.”

“A white chocobo. Tseng has already arrived in Mideel and obtained it from his report last night.”

“Right… the one that kicked me in the face.”

There was a snort that didn’t come from him, and his best friend pretended he hadn't done so in his face with some remarkable willpower by continuing the conversation in what started out in a level tone.

“Therefore what I’m looking for might simply be an associate detail you cannot recall this day, but that would not hold true on others.” Sighing almost invisibly, he now regarded Scarlet with a measure of irritation. “There is nothing about a ‘Gaia-Goddess’ that triggers anything?”

“ _Minerva?_ Uh… no? Wouldn’t know _why_ , I swear at Her rather frequently.”

“I know.” Deadpanned his best friend. “I always wondered why you swore _at_ your goddess rather than by.”

Scarlet pondered that. “Because… She’s a bitch.”

“…if you insist.” Veld rubbed his face, a stubborn frown creasing his features and pulling at the scar on one side. “If I don’t know then I can’t protect you from the topic, Scarlet.”

“I’ll let you know the moment I have painful sudden surges of my migraine.” Glancing at a wall for whatever timekeeping device there might be, he pondered how much time was left until the lunch hour.

It was probably a good thing he got in to work so early in the morning, he still had a few hours before anyone would think to put more paperwork in his little ‘office’ or when the head of Urban Development dug himself out of his busy offices to eat something to be ‘ambush-able’.

“Hey, didn’t Reeve say… my mind’s ‘bridging’ the damage done to my memories? Or imply I should be, I guess. Maybe I now skip over the memories once they hurt?”

“Equally a question as the one I arrived with, but if so… as encouraging as the fact we now know you are accessing different memories per day. Any progress is better than before, Scarlet.”

“Might mean I’m forgetting permanently, now.”

“Then we will merely never know what happened.” Admitted the Turk with surprisingly little bitterness when it came to the topic of his forgetfulness. “Although, we _do_ know you still have forbidden topics. Knife brought one up not too long ago.”

Scarlet warily eyed the other man, already resigned and knowing what to expect with a leading statement like that. “You’re going to bring one up too, aren’t you?”

“…I apologize. But yes. If you can remember anything else from these subjects, I would like to know.”

“Fine.” This wasn’t going to be any fun, he _already_ knew it.

“Then, Scarlet, _what happened to Vin_ -“

* * *

“Director Tuseti has supplied us with an example as to why Director Scarlet has not written himself. I did not ask him to.”

Angeal looked up curiously from the slightly damp letter from his mother, raising an eyebrow at the silver-haired SOLDIER sitting with them when the pause stretched too long to be something not deliberate or the other teenager being utterly unable to phrase something. Given the statement of not asking for something, he suspected the latter. “Sephiroth?”

“I thought you were of the opinion the man was ‘too busy’ with the mastery attempt of his?” Genesis inquired sweetly, attempting to snatch the ‘example’ page their superior was still studying with a remarkable fascination but the other was not distracted enough to allow it.

“I merely _suggested_ it might be so,” pausing as a crack of lightning thundered overhead that would’ve drowned out his words, he continued when the rain merely continued to drum down on the tarp spread out over their heads and they knew there wasn’t another forthcoming, “what’s wrong, Sephiroth?”

“…I am uncertain which end to attempt to begin at.”

“What?” Genesis demanded shortly, irritated at being confused as he always was.

“Can we see?” Angeal inquired more politely, smacking his redheaded friend upside the head at the same time. “It _is_ your letter, you don’t have to. But, if we are to understand your… confusion, it may help.”

Sephiroth considered him as their red-clad fellow SOLDIER huffed in sour humor but noticeably didn’t leave the table with his letters to read elsewhere, then turned the surface of the page he had been considering so they could see it across the table. “Very well then.”

Angeal at first thought… well, he didn’t know what he thought when he could see the ‘issue’. The utterly incomprehensible scrawl slashing across the paper as if it had committed it some affront was only _vaguely_ written words after an intent study requiring if not three seconds then longer. What the passage might’ve been about was completely unknown to him, even as he worked out a few words here or there that seemed to only be glancingly associated with words he knew.

“Ah… I now see why Director Scarlet has not taken the time to write to us himself and instead passes along his questions with Director Tuseti.”

“I recognize some of those.” Genesis announced suddenly, taking the painstaking effort to squint at the page to see it clearer in the glow of his own mako-bright eyes than he could in the dim diffused lighting of the mess tent pitched tonight. “Some are on the carved rocks in Banora’s underground caves.”

“Do you know what it says, then?”

“Of _course_ not, Angeal! I wasn’t aware _anyone_ could translate them.” With a frown, mostly for show, the redhead scanned the short few lines once more before deliberately sitting back upright thoughtfully to point at supposedly one specific point. “A lot of those letters are disused in this day and age. His handwriting could be declared an _antique_ , and even then… what a mess. There’s Mideel Common, then exactly two Midgardian letters, whatever that symbol was pulled from, then _that_ is a Kalm Standard vowel substitution all making up one word… no one even _knows_ Kalm Standard anymore outside dusty _libraries_ and entirely too exacting old _tutors_.”

“And you.” Angeal pointed out politely, fighting the grin because that would ignite his best friend’s short temper and jar him out of his mood to volunteer information unasked. “And now Director Scarlet.”

Genesis scoffed, irritable but not at him thankfully. “Don’t remind me, Angeal.”

“Fascinating.” Declared Sephiroth mildly, returning the page to the inadequately small stack he had of all the letters sent to him to date. “I was unaware there were more languages than ‘Midgardian’ and the one Wutai speaks. Wutaian, perhaps?”

“They’re dialects, according to the world of literature.” Surprisingly without the usual rancor Genesis had for anything written outside the play he was enamored with since they were kids, their fellow SOLDIER and materia specialist continued in a remarkably level tone. “Well… there’s a theory we all once spoke the same language, but after some time different areas came up with their own ‘slang’ and terms that incorporated into specific places around the world. Some more heavily than others, depending on how often outsiders came by or how much trade they got. Hence, ‘Mideel Common’ and ‘Kalm Standard’. Anyone with a linguistic background will inform you that it is fact that the roots of all the ‘dialects’ are too strongly associated to the exact same terms to have come from different languages that coincidentally developed the same way to be spoken… even Wutai’s native language is similar to some degree if you go back far enough, as much as they decry the theory.”

“How widely are these ‘dialects’ utilized? If there are no hints of even alternative spellings in Midgar itself…”

“Ah… now, _that_ is a question. As I’ve said, almost no one knows Kalm Standard anymore. It’s practically extinct, has not been written or used even in Kalm for almost a decade.” Here Genesis bared his teeth in an unfriendly smile. “Everything in Midgar is written in Midgardian, and as Shin-Ra is headquartered there they also use Midgardian. However, they also have a strong presence in Kalm and Junon… and their regional dialects were supplanted with a more ‘standard’ system for ‘clear recordkeeping’. There is a drive, Midgar-centric of _course_ , to replace all the dialect variations with just Midgardian. Oddly, it’s only something the Science and Research Division really argues for. Everyone else just uses people who can translate or dialect-to-dialect dictionaries and _gets over_ themselves.”

“Genesis is obviously _enthusiastic_ when it comes to written words.” Angeal offered when all Sephiroth did was blink slowly, grinning with faint fondness at his fellow SOLDIERs. “Though… Genesis, if _Director Scarlet_ knows the words that were carved back in Banora… enough to use them himself? He grew up in Mideel, that's not too far away.”

“That means I can get a translation, possibly. Damn the man, he never _hinted_ he knew anything like this.” Swallowing some probably distinctly not polite words for a superior, the redhead tossed his head irritably and pushed himself to his feet. “Well, regardless. Will you write back, Sephiroth?”

“…I do intend to.”

“Warn that crazy old coot I’ve got questions for him, and he _better_ have answers in return for that headache he just passed on to you.”

The silver-haired SOLDIER regarded Genesis’ back thoughtfully as their fellow stalked off to secure his letters somewhere safer and probably drier to preserve them. “Should I be offended?”

“I… uh. Hm. Unless you find it frustrating that you cannot read Director Scarlet’s writing or galling that Genesis intends to get revenge for you, asked for or not? Then yes. Otherwise no.”

Hopefully, Sephiroth _was_ asking if he should be offended at being sent an unreadable passage to go with his entirely inadequate pile of personal correspondence. Angeal would be kind of a little too if it hadn’t been a pre-warned for complication and a example for why one of the men they knew back in Shin-Ra didn’t write any of them even a short letter for his questions when another they knew less well did.

“Curious.” The SOLDIER declared, neatening his pile of paper thoughtfully before tucking it away in a pocket of his leather armor. “Angeal, there seems to be alarmed shouting on the south-eastern edge of camp, and the alarms are not ringing.”

Trusting his ears over his own, he still tried to pick up what the other could hear better than he could through the distraction of the rain hammering against the canvas overhead and the ground outside. “A night-raid, again?”

“It seems so.”

“Genesis will just have to catch up, then.”


	14. Chapter 14

“…okay, _what?”_

Scarlet was in his own bed, and his hair wasn’t in that braid Shotgun did for him. His head _pounded_ but the Sector Seven plate had grown like a weed since he last checked out a window, so his entire house was blessedly dark now regardless of what time it really was.

Normal, everyday things. Right?

He hadn’t been sleeping, at least yet since he wasn’t shaking or unreasonably terrified. The Turk told him to try braiding his hair before bed, and he had been intending to attempt it to learn the strange self-hair braiding skill that evaded him a bit much for someone that _could_ braid wire. There was only a vague and fuzzy memory of looking at the progress of Seven’s plate from the underside some time ago, so he couldn’t even judge _when_ that was to have an estimate of how much memory he just lost.

…Shotgun had _braided his hair_ for him just before he… forgot.

No, wait. _Veld_ brought in his wife’s wedding ring for him to check over _before_ he forgot.

That was the last thing he could remember, and _he could remember_. Something.

He was _going_ to punch the ass in the face. Whatever happened, was _Veld’s_ fault this time.

Scarlet didn’t know how, nor why, he thought he knew that. However, he did know that much.

Fuck, how much time did he have left before the day Veld wanted him to start trying for his mastery?

<<◊>>

Then he had to immediately shelve any ideas of revenge because _Master Nova_ was _here._ In _Midgar_ , in the Shin-Ra building, and as crotchety as ever.

Frail now, almost _spindly thin_ , his ancient master of blacksmithing was wrinkled and even more _ancient_ than before. The steel hair had turned pearly white and wispy, veins now stood out against papery skin luridly, and there was a bent to her spine that hadn’t been there as far as his patchy memories were concerned.

Kind of trippy to see her like this and not the merely old muscled woman who had no issues chucking anything at hand at his head when he made a mistake in the forge she built up in Mideel to teach him in.

“You look like shit.”

The old woman snorted, folding her arms over her chest and giving him a pointed look over herself. “Look at what’s talking, kid. You break a mirror with that face today?”

“Yo, can we _keep_ you? Cuz suddenly, it’s like I ain’t ever left the streets.” Reno inquired saucily, ignoring Rude’s elbow aiming for his head and cocking it to the side so his usual mission partner’s smack wouldn’t connect by a hair’s breadth. “You’d fit right in this madhouse, lovely. An probably rule it with an iron fist, too!”

Nova gave the scrappy bit of a teenager a disgusted look. “I’d rather kill myself. It’d be like teaching that idiot anything all over again.”

“Probably. Anyway, Master Nova, time to _eat_ your words.”

“So you did it.” She stated more than inquired, regarding him passively for a long second in the Shin-Ra building’s public floor as people filed past them for their own aims. “About _time_ , brat. What were you waiting for, the end of the world?”

“I wanted to see if I could get you to drop dead from shock from being dead wrong.” Scarlet confessed to brightly, which while he knew full well wasn’t the real reason it would work for now. “Pity.”

She tried to take his head off with a walking stick he hadn’t noticed her using. Since, apparently, the old woman didn’t remotely need it and only kept it to hit people with.

Snickering, he ducked her with the same ease he had every other time she tried to make him a head shorter for whatever reason. “Come on, the forge is set up on forty-four. You _might_ want to bring a chair, never found a better or less long-winded fucking recipe for ziedrich.”

“No, I am waiting for another. You go on ahead, set up whatever messy monstrosity you _think_ will impress me.” Master Nova scowled viciously when he didn’t move, huffing sourly in a brutally honest way that was the old woman’s entire life philosophy in a nutshell. “I am _old,_ kid. You require a _current_ master blacksmith to oversee your mastery.”

“Meh, don’t really give a fuck. I’d rather just blow your socks off and call that good.”

Nova whacked him in the shin before he could dodge it, threateningly wagging her stick at his head as he hopped on one foot and swore at her while trying to juggle both his mug of coffee and his spear at the same time. Especially trying to avoid stabbing or spilling his more important coffee as his shin throbbed in pain in time with his head.

“You _will get_ your damn mastery, brat. I do _not_ teach morons, and _you will_ _not_ be _different_.”

“Fuck _fine,_ you abusive old _hag._ ”

The two Turks were _noticeably not_ doing anything at a Director of the company getting assaulted in the building, he was _totally_ reporting them to Veld. Reno still had his saucy smirk, hands folded behind his head as he watched the abuse happen with glee, while Rude was… well. Rudely not doing shit but standing there silently.

<<◊>>

“Where, the _fuck_ , did you dig him out of?”

“…don’t ask.” Master Nova bitterly instructed, glaring _daggers_ at the back of the significantly younger master blacksmith she brought in getting _entirely too excited_ as the chunk of alloy he just made was tested against an ancient-made ziedrich shield rented from some collector somewhere.

Spoiler alert, the bit of alloy he made and the shield were _exactly the same._ His master had given up and gave him the credit after the entirely longwinded explanation he gave before even lighting his forge for the first attempt, any further doubt was plain stupid.

He had cactuar wood this time, more than enough for five attempts from the look of the pile of dried-out green monster limbs, it wouldn’t be sketchy to assume.

Though, to observe every elemental resistance the ingot gave took some testing on top of the effort it took to forge. They’d probably have to do this again tomorrow for an Eos alloy bangle that Rufus already claimed for himself, then again for a shield of his own make. Maybe a day or two of testing in between, just to be _extra sure_ everything worked as it should.

At least he was getting a break from her nasty attitude since she was focused on someone else for once, so Scarlet let it slide.

He was a lot more interested in downing _all the coffee ever_ , even if Reeve wasn’t letting him have more than _a_ cup for every other cheap waxed cup of water.

Fourteen hours for an _ingot_ , the _easiest_ thing to make as it was a standard size and shape.

His arms _hurt_ , his head _hurt worse_. Fuck, even his _hair hurt_. To make a _completely useless ingot_ , but then again the ‘masters’ got to set the requirements.

He owed Veld _two_ punches to the face, he _knew_ he hadn’t been in any good shape for this then the jackass went and made him _forget_ almost two months of time he had to prepare with.

“What’s wrong, kid?”

“Anything further is going to have to wait another day or so,” thankfully the _time requirement_ to make the Eos alloy would just help him here, “because to be frank I feel like shit.”

“You _look_ like shit.”

“Thanks, you crusty old bitch.”

Reeve made a wounded noise, giving him a sad look over the latest offering of coffee.

Master Nova regarded him with something very scarily like amusement, and the old bitch didn’t _do_ amusement. “Young man, may I have one of those?”

Because he, for some strange reason, seemed to believe the _best_ in everyone even when shown ‘no, Scarlet really was kind of an asshole’… the head of Urban Development gave her his coffee with a bright eager smile. “Of _course_ , mistress-erm… _Master_ Nova?”

The old crotchety woman nodded in either acknowledgement of her correct title or some faked thanks as she examined the probably just on this side of warm liquid, then turned and threw the contents of the cup right in Scarlet’s face.

His _coffee_. In his _face_.

“Clean yourself up.” She demanded shortly just to be insulting along with her ‘assault’, stomping off the best her frail old woman body let her to corral her overly eager associate master blacksmith bothering the materia specialists.

Since they were attempting to figure out how to test the elemental protections of an _ingot_ aside the obvious ‘set it on fire and see what happens’ one and probably didn’t need the extra work.

At least the coffee didn’t reach him boiling hot, not that he’d be able to tell the difference after standing in front of an open fire pit for thirteen and some change hours. “Reeve… do _not_ give Master Nova shit to throw. She’ll fucking _throw it._ Usually, _at me._ ”

“I… ah… see. Very sorry about that. I, ah… didn’t know?”

Mopping his face clean, or as clean as it would get with just a hand, Scarlet irritably glowered at the man at fault for arming his old master with something. “You owe me another cup of coffee.”

“Scarlet, caffeine in the large concentrations you drink is _dehydrating._ You need _water_ and something to _eat_. More than half a day standing still while hammering together sheets of metal? In front of a burning hot forge?”

“There’s water in coffee and there’s not enough leeway to take a piss break. I’ve _tried_ that before.” He unhelpfully pointed out, grimacing as he felt how much of his hair got drenched in his poor wasted lukewarm coffee. “And, if you wouldn’t mind… _where the fuck is Verdot?”_

“Ah… can I ask why you want to see him?” Reeve inquired cautiously, and when he glanced at him skeptically the man deflated instead of continuing to do whatever that pathetic question was intended to do. “There’s been a leak, or at least his people just found a leak of company secrets severe enough to demand all of _their_ attention. Verdot’s been up to his eyebrows trying to both track it down and keep people safe from it.”

“Well at least he has an excuse to avoid being punched in the face this time.”

“…Scarlet.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve done so, and probably won’t be the last.”

“There’s a _lot_ you missed, Scarlet.” He changed the subject with, a much better attempt than his first one. Likely because it was _true_ , and as the genuinely nice person he was he fretted with the best of them. “If you hadn’t ‘woken up’ at the last _second_ … it was very close, and even that doesn’t cover just everything that’s gone on… and I _missed_ the whole morning while monitoring Reactor Number Seven’s starting up all night! They’re here _early!_ I was supposed to _help._ ”

“I never promised to always be sane, Reeve.” Scarlet had to admit to a bit sourly. “Though, this time it wasn’t _entirely_ my fault.”

The slightly shorter man _glared_ at him, and now that he was paying attention the guy really was a bit ragged around the edges that spoke of late nights and staying up even later because he really was a good friend. “It was. _Not._ Anyone’s _fault._ You say that one more time, Scarlet, and I’ll… _I’ll_ hit you.”

“Literally was _Verdot’s_ this time.”

Reeve seized hold of a clipboard someone left unattended near him and whacked him in the arm.

Scarlet snickered tiredly in his face. “I give you a three out of ten. Stings, but not going to bruise.”

* * *

Master Nova, being a crotchety old magnificent bitch that she was, got him three days to recover until he _had_ to return and do another bit of Eos alloy or fail his mastery attempt. The other master Scarlet still didn’t know the name of was busy brainstorming ways to try _disproving_ the elemental resistance the ingot of ziedrich had compared to the old stuff, and while the blacksmith master he was really attempting to ‘impress’ wasn’t exactly _happy_ with the long delay he was admittedly a bit too busy to really argue.

The first day he spent in bed, sourly cursing out his best friend in his head as his whole upper body realized just what he did and _complained nonstop._

The _second_ day, as he cautiously worked out sore muscle groups, Veld surprised him with his wife and kid.

Tiny little Felicia stared up at him from between her parents’ knees, Scarlet stared down completely flabbergasted at what he found when he opened his front door at the ‘shouldn’t have happened because _Turks_ and he didn’t give out his address’ knock.

…point to his best friend. He’d only punch him in the face once, maybe.

“Verdot informs me you’re attempting your mastery, Scarlet.” Eva-who-did-really-exist inquired when the silence stretched maybe a little too long, attempting a pleasant smile that was only a bit strained around the edges. “How is that going?”

“Err… it’s going on still.” Belatedly taking a step backwards into the foyer of his own house, he attempted to hide his Partisan model spear set in a weapon rack right next to his front door just in case Kalm wasn’t that kind of town anymore. “Come in, wasn’t… well, I wasn’t expecting company… ever.”

Eva-who-really-did-exist shot a glare at her husband and the man’s whole non-expression. “I _heard_. That just won’t do, Scarlet.”

“…okay?”

She swept into his house as if it was hers, and at this point he might not even protest that if she demanded it, little Felicia trotting along after her mother curiously peering at the bare minimal furnishings he never bought himself. “We’re here to ensure you eat something. You _do_ look a lot better than when I saw you last.”

“…thanks?” Palming his face roughly at his own stupid replies and ignoring his back as it _screamed_ at him for moving his arm at all, Scarlet considered if he was that much of a bitch to slam the door in Veld’s face. “Think my kitchen is stocked, so feel free to make yourself at home.”

Not that the lady felt the need to wait for such an invitation to his kitchen when she had the one to enter his place, like the rightful wife of his best friend didn’t ever need. Then he returned his attention to the Turk of Turks still silently waiting as the ladies took over his home as if it were their own.

“What. The. _HELL_. Verdot?”

“It shouldn’t have hit you so severely.” Veld informed him, blank and without inflection at _all_. “I cannot remotely explain why it did. We would have delayed your masters if you had not woken that day.”

“I don’t really give a…” there was a kid somewhere behind him, _maybe_ he shouldn’t be swearing, “…a flip about the mastery attempt. Honestly, fully don’t. It’s nice to see Master Nova still kicking even if she’s still as irritable as ever, but aside that… no, Verdot. I lost _two months_. To _what?”_

“Let’s not repeat that situation.”

“Gentlemen, you can have _that_ conversation in _here_.”

“…are you hiding behind your wife, man?”

“I could not refuse her again, she found out you had been relatively stable for some time and _insisted_ to be properly introduced as I promised at our wedding the moment you showed any improvement.” Veld admitted only a touch wryly, but that talking about his wife got anything through his ‘work face’ spoke rather highly of Eva’s whole character. “You brought this on yourself with our rings and Felicia’s new necklace, Scarlet.”

“You did, you mean. I didn’t need to know any more than you wanted me to make the rings to know she was good for you.” Scarlet left him and the open door together because he was sore and, now that someone mentioned it, rather hungry _and_ there was a pretty lady making him food probably. “And, the girl’s your _daughter_. Can’t really do much else, can I?”

Eva beamed at him with an edge of something not quite relief to her as he slowly edged into his own kitchen, said young daughter on a hip trying to peer into various pots she had already gotten out and filled with assorted foodstuffs. “You _do_ look much better than you did at the wedding, Scarlet. More… aware.”

“I’d kind of have to be, I think. Sorry, I don’t… honestly remember the wedding. Or… you, actually. Just that I made the rings for you two and that it happened despite my ‘episodes’ getting in the way.”

The pretty brunette with hair to her shoulders and a ready kind smile for at least people she knew if not everyone smirked in his mildly surprised face. “I heard. I _also_ heard Verdot cussing the day when he finally realized what the rings were, mostly aimed at himself for never taking them to an antique dealer instead of a jeweler to figure it out. Thank you, I was rather honestly shocked myself to hear what you can remake.”

“I was not _cussing_ , Eva.”

“It was still language Felicia should never repeat.” Lecture the mother without glancing at her husband who finally walked into the kitchen too. “That _is_ cussing, Verdot. Now, you two sit at the table and have your long-delayed conversation. Felicia and I will make the food. Then, my dearest husband, _you_ can do the dishes… and clean up poor Scarlet’s kitchen after our daughter gets through ‘helping’.”

“…she was probably a general in another life, man.”

“I can easily see that.”

Eva-who-really-did-exist-and-was-probably-a-general-in-another-life waggled a wooden spoon at them both over one shoulder as she marshaled her ingredients together to a cohesive shape despite sabotage from toddler fingers. “I believe I already gave you men your marching orders.”

“I am _highly_ impressed that she puts up with you.” Volunteered the prospective master blacksmith as he obediently took a seat.

Veld heaved a tiny sigh, slightly tired already and a little strained still around the edges even in his Turk-best blank face, as he joined him at the table. “Do _not_ flirt with my wife, Scarlet.”

“Already thinking about it. But _alas_ , I think I’ve got enough issues that your suit is still stronger.”

His best friend’s baby girl got put on her own feet and then brought her dad a slice of reagan greens, basically what he once knew as a bell pepper, climbing the dining chairs like a ladder to reach the tabletop and inspect Scarlet again but this time with visible determination. “What do _you_ like?”

“I like pahsana greens.” Which were _apples_ , but for some reason they were called _greens_.

“I do too.” Little Felicia informed him brightly, waving her arms around for emphasis. “Even if they’re red, not green.”

Scarlet exaggeratedly threw up his hands, even if that made both shoulders _twinge_ with pain. “ _Thank you_ , I _never_ got why they’re called ‘greens’.”

“Some pahsanas _can be_ green, you two.” Eva chipped in, slicing up one that might be part of whatever she was making but hopefully part of the pre-dinner snacks being handed out.

“Yeah, and now there’s a breed called ‘Banora White’. Do we call them _whites_ now? There're red and yellow versions of reagan greens, _and_ krakka greens are really _roots_ that only come in _white_ or _red_. Or that weird purple variant in Wutai…”

“I now see how you two became friends.” His best friend’s wife informed the whole group dryly, putting a platter of various sliced ‘greens’ on the table they all immediately helped themselves to. “You’re exactly as _persnickety_ as the other.”

“Actually…” Scarlet dodged Veld’s attempt to plant a hand over his mouth with an evil grin and a slice of apple to point at the now suspicious woman. “…we got arrested together, _that’s_ how we became friends. I also said some not-so-nice words and told him where to _shove it_ while he complained about it as I busted us out.”

Her surprised expression was utterly real, someone hadn’t yet told his wife that little tidbit.

“Scarlet helped us stop the kidnapping of Rufus Shin-Ra, Eva. The police were merely following procedures as the confrontation did result in some… trouble. We should not have escaped, but the charges _were_ dropped once I could explain the situation to the MPs.”

“The first time.”

The Turk of Turks took a deep breath, then turned slowly to _glare_ at him.

“The _first_ time.” Repeated the man’s wife slowly. “I will admit, Scarlet… I’ve kept my curiosity about you quiet for a rather _long_ time now since you were obviously not alright. But I would very much like to hear this story now, if you feel up to it.”

“I owe a _lot_ of people answers, and I might never remember everything. But I’d _just love_ to tell you what I can.”

“Can I hear a story?” Felicia chipped in with her too-loud childish curiosity, around the slice of pahsana she had been a bit busy munching on. “What does ‘arrested’ mean?”

Scarlet was going to have _so much fun_ with this. “Once upon a time, there was a little boy just a _bit_ older than you…”

“That is not _age appropriate._ ”

“You _owe me_ , Verdot. And give me a little _faith_ , man. I’m not swearing, am I?”

“Shockingly.” Deadpanned the man, desert dry and no longer forcibly blanked. “Please keep it that way.”

* * *

Scarlet spent day three of his grace period trying to catch up with his paperwork, and slowly parsing through what he had done in the last two months of being brainless and doing what had been piling up while he made a tricky and completely useless alloy ingot for shits and giggles. His muscles were _still_ sore as hell, but not nearly as badly as that first day afterward.

Which was where Master Nova finally cornered him without witnesses or even a Turk guarding her from assaulting anyone else. That was particularly pathetic, because old and frail she might now be… his master was _not_ a helpless old woman and never would be.

“What _happened_ , kid?”

“I suffered a psychotic break. Not entirely sure about what, and quite frankly it’s doubtful I’ll ever remember.”

Because Veld wasn’t a blacksmith or a miner and had other methods in place to find him when he wanted, he probably didn’t realize the smiths and miners tended to _talk_ a _lot_. Enough that going to a local mine was one of the best if not _only_ way to find the rather more reclusive masters of the craft that might have something interesting left for him to learn. When he stopped talking to the miners, then suddenly restarted again, it had eventually reached old Master Nova out in Mideel even if she didn’t have a nearby mine to chat up for the news echoed in those ways.

She was highly respected enough that miners sent _her_ their men and ores anyway.

Which meant, she knew perfectly well how long he hadn’t been doing what he should’ve been.

The old woman scowled at him irritably. “I don’t fucking know what that means, and I don’t care. _Cause_ , _effect_ , _result_. Now.”

“My mind broke from stress, I forget everything on some occasions or don’t remember it all any time else, I lost about a decade. You old _bitchy_ woman.”

Nova shook her walking cane at his head again. “A decade out of practice, then?”

“I… no. I _do_ forge things. I have a forge in my workshop. I just… my job’s less forge-time heavy and more ‘paperwork and tinkering’. I was _trying_ to fix it… I slipped a bit.”

“Do better, the results you have _is shit._ ” She planted the end of her cane back on the tiled flooring of his office, pissed off now. “Not sure if what’s left is _worth it_ , but it sounds as if you need to reforge your mind to be better too.”

“Unfortunately, the brain isn’t a metal.”

“More’s the pity.” Sniffed the crotchety if magnificent old bitch snootily, regarding him with significantly less irritation for a long moment before that bitter fire behind her eyes lit up once again and she practically sneered at him. “I do not teach the weak-willed or useless that can’t _use_ their damn minds, Scarlet. What broke yours, whatever it had been, had to out stubborn something that can out stubborn _me_. Was it worth it?”

“Yes.” Slightly surprised, though not sure why given the old bitch had drilled him in the question-answer format in lieu of being able to write him a study guide for what she taught him since she _never learned how to write_ , Scarlet frowned thoughtfully as he wondered about his own answer. “I still don’t know what it was all about, but yeah. I think it was worth it, somehow.”

“…good. You let me know when you _can_ forge something, I’ll keep that moronic idiot master I had to pull in distracted until you are ready.”

“That’s almost _sweet_ of you, Master Nova.”

Completely deadpan, the bitch used the hooked end of her walking cane to tip his _full_ inbox into the empty trashcan next to his desk. Completely not caring that it tipped over and made a big papery mess over his office’s floor.

“…fuck you, you fucking _old crotchety hag._ ”

“Much better.”


	15. Chapter 15

The bangle was significantly easier, a short sheet of ziedrich built up then beaten into an offset cylinder just to be cut in half with two hinges affixed and a clasp. ‘Grooves’ left between the bands of metal making it up in three equal parts without needing to cut into it and letting it break apart, ‘traditional’ bindings on either side on one half to hide the seams and hardware with a significantly less weak protection, were just fiddly shit that wasn’t so hard if you knew what you were doing.

Everything was only as good as the weakest part making it up, and while he didn’t know what _happened_ to the bangle he made well before Shin-Ra he did at least know he did it properly without all the fancy tricks.

Didn’t… didn’t he give it to-

A Turk. One of the older ones he hadn’t seen in the last half a year or so he could somewhat recall sketchily. He gave it to _a Turk_ , because he did prefer bangles with slots rather than putting his materia into a weapon he stuck into and blocked monsters with.

That didn’t quite seem _right_ to him, but he was a bit too busy to really think about it.

Once the alloy was in the correct shape with the holes to allow him to create the armor piece without additional trouble and hardened in the toxic quench, he did have to make the clasp and hinges from another metal to show he could… but he could take a short break once the Eos alloy part was done instead of do everything _immediately_ and without pausing.

Seven hours, not nearly fourteen. Six hours for the alloy creation, if only because hammering together a sheet was a little harder than just smacking everything together in one large ingot.

As that bit was already pre-claimed by someone, the moment the elemental resistance was tested and logged as ‘half’ it’d be sent straight to Rufus. Via whichever Turk wasn’t running around so hard that the whole department of them were practically not present aside the token few keeping up appearances in Shin-Ra’s headquarters right now.

Ziedrich bangles, according to _antiquity_ and therefore what he had to do regardless, didn’t have slots for materia. He was _tempted_ to see why not but as he really wasn’t in the mood to make himself more work that might not count, that attempt would be left for much later.

Next year if he could, the one after preferably.

He could guess that the elemental resistances likely interfered with elemental magics, but that didn’t honestly make complete sense to him as there was materia that weren’t elementally inclined and shouldn’t get ‘halved’ by the inherent properties of Eos alloy in proximity.

While less intensive to make, and a bit of armor much easier to equip and therefore be tested, Scarlet got two days of scrambling after his paperwork and signing off on the intake of reports from his Division in between making the bangle and going back to forge a shield.

…he was going to _murder something_ for having to make a shield.

While the ingot was a straightforward trapezoid shape of a certain thickness, long-winded and repetitive but not _all_ that bad to whack together just _tedious_ , and a bangle more a simple sheet metal that took some creativity to build up while not getting that refractory visual effect wrong or hammering down a monster metal sheet in the wrong spot for those groves, requiring an adjustable pre-shaped recess in the flat steel surface he was forging upon so he could both hammer the sheets together straight on _and_ not accidentally bend the sheet himself before he had to… a shield was a significantly more difficult shape.

Not because a concave dome of a certain dimension was hard once he made a larger single sheet of the alloy, because the bit of ancient ziedrich rented from who knew where was _decorated_ and as he _had to_ reproduce it… what _Scarlet_ had to make _had to be_ equally as decorated or _better_.

Because he was an ‘aspirant blacksmith master’, and a total workaholic, his dumb ass was trying for ‘ _better’_.

Before even lighting the forge or starting up the alloy making process he instead sat down with the ancient shield and took a damn good look at what it had, and that he’d have to do again.

Since ziedrich couldn’t be melted down or easily added to once it was hardened, he still didn’t know how he attached the vine wire to Eva’s wedding ring and desperately wished he recalled right now, he needed a plan before picking up a hammer.

Two seconds of staring at it blankly, and Scarlet knew the _Ancients_ had _cheated._

The curls and whorls on the ‘top’ end of the damn curved surface was in that ugly deep dusky green, meaning it had _been_ Eos alloy but they melted it down to do the decoration without concern for the elemental effect as the rest of the shield behind it was a massive chunk as it was. He meant _massive,_ the thickness of the shield told him that much and since the ‘front’ of it was the exact same shade of deep dusky green then they probably had to wield the real bit of ziedrich to the reforged alloy. Without damaging _everything,_ to the point the elemental resistance would fail.

It was a _ceremonial_ piece, not a function-over-looks bit of defense. Still Eos alloy, still elementally resistant, not something someone would choose to take into a battle if they could have a less unwieldy option to pick from.

As he had to _reproduce_ everything, that meant he had to remake the weaker alloy too… but he already _had_ that half-done, didn’t he? “Master Nova, I’m going to need that ingot.”

“Explain.”

“This _isn’t_ ziedrich, this green shit. This is what happens when you _melt it down_ again.”

The magnificent old bitch idly stroked the underside of her jaw, studying what he pointed out thoughtfully and no little rancor for realizing the exact same thing he did about what the long-since forgotten Cetra smith had done. “Not a patena?”

Scarlet rolled his eyes at her, getting smacked in the side of the head by her walking stick surprisingly gently so it’d only sting as he couldn’t easily dodge her while holding the unwieldy thing steady to be inspected. Probably for ‘attitude’ again, as he had been frequently whacked for in his fucked up ‘second’ childhood.

“ _Fuck off_ , you old _hag_. No, I’ve _done this_ before. Both before and after I knew the whole process. One gives a mauve red-purple alloy, but isn’t a pain in the ass nor Eos as expected, the other? This fucking murky _green_ and _still_ not Eos. I was fucking _pissed_ at losing all that damn effort just for a weaker variant that’s only somewhat stronger than the red shit. Ziedrich alloy, _properly made_ , doesn’t oxidize or rust in air or water. Salt or not. Not even when dunked back into mako for a century or two. That banding effect, melded together with everything else in the alloy, results in this dusky green shit once the monster bits suspending the magical lattice are overwhelmed and are no longer able to reduce the effects of the heat.”

The ‘real’ overseeing master blacksmith harrumphed behind them, not nearly old enough to pull that off nor really respected enough by student nor master to be forgiven in that assumption of authority either. He _was_ visibly cowed by Master Nova’s acidic sneer at the ‘interruption’, but either stupid enough or just a plain idiot to try his objection anyway. “There are _not to be_ any shortcuts taken in the process.”

“I _already made_ the shit in front of your ass, _and_ an _ingot_ is fucking _useless_ for anything else.”

“Kid, allow me.” Master Nova stridently injected, hobbling over to the ass and firmly taking him by the arm to go verbally eviscerate with his own confused but respectfully obedient help.

Given that lazy teenage Turk Reno’s smirk went from amused but bored to downright _inspired glee_ , listening to what the two of them were quietly and apparently amiably discussing closer to his spot near a wall than where every other gawker from inside the company or without that wanted to see him attempt his mastery that Katana was minding, Scarlet could happily live without knowing what was being said.

Better that ass than him.

Turning back to what he had to reproduce… unless he got that ingot, he’d probably be spending _two days_ on this shit. Six-seven hours for another sheet of the metal alloy, the _bare_ hour he had to whack it into shape before the lattice could decay without the final dunk into the toxic quench, _fourteen hours_ for another ingot just to melt down again or more hopefully just the three hours it’d take to melt down the previous one. 

Should that be done before or after he made the shield?

Those _stupid swirly_ accents… there was another three-five hours of measured forging regardless. Broad wide swirls more like drapes or streams of water flowing around the face from the heavier top and down both sides, so it wouldn’t be all that hard just utterly useless and necessitating him repeatedly whacking an alloy that wasn’t nearly so giving as raw ziedrich was before it was hardened.

Probably should do the parts that weren’t time sensitive first, have it ready… was _that_ how he welded the wires to Eva’s wedding ring?

If the greenish sub-alloy _could be_ , or was the only way, you could weld anything to _Eos_ alloy without ruining it… probably only when it was still malleable given the magical properties and the very little leeway within he knew as well as the back of his hand. Which had to mean he made Veld’s wedding band first then drew the wires from the reaming out and melted one end to add to Eva’s wedding ring after he made _that_ ring blank and cut it to dimensions but welded before he hardened hers.

It made significantly more sense, to him at least, and seemed to have worked perfectly fine as his best friend hadn’t mentioned any difference between the rings’ effects. 

There were no weld spots showing on the ziedrich backing of the shield, not even under the ornate scrollwork decorating the damn thing at the edges. All solidly stuck together, and nothing gave in his hands as he experimentally wiggled both the useless decoration or the edges of the antique.

Okay, he _wouldn’t_ punch his best friend in the face the moment he wasn’t with his wife and daughter and Scarlet finally caught him out from his massive emergency company leak problem. If Veld hadn’t asked him to forge the rings then he’d probably fuck this up guessing without knowing it was possible and he did it before.

Still didn’t mean he was _happy_ that he lost two months to a ‘testing’ of an issue the Turk of Turks already knew was an issue right before this whole bullshit of a mastery attempt, but again that’s why he put the man in charge of his life in the first place.

Veld had to know the costs to judge how risky certain situations were for him. Scarlet wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ remember himself.

Not yet, maybe never.

He stretched out his still-sore shoulders by tucking an arm as far behind his head as he could stand, pressing backwards as his spine also decided to get into it by cracking a few vertebrae back into proper alignment before switching which arm he was stretching out. Until he was informed of what he could reuse or what he had to do all over again, now he knew where to start in on this, all he could really do was wait.

He was still sore, and rather exhausted already with the entire headache. As he started it and he was probably too stubborn for his own good he’d _finish_ it… but he never promised anyone to behave himself either.

Noticeably, neither did the crusty old bitch Master Nova promise shit about how well she’d behave for anything. She really was his most favorite master smith out of all the ones he both could and couldn’t remember for a reason.

* * *

As he _really didn’t care_ if he got his mastery on the ziedrich rediscovery, the whole headache had been more a puzzle than a really intricate forging method for a bewilderingly magical alloy although he’d be the first to admit it was stupidly _complicatedly_ long-winded, Scarlet left the masters to debate over what he made in favor of less interesting things but shit he still had to do.

The only thing he wanted out of it was to make Master Nova eat her own words, however much the two of them knew full well she had claimed he couldn’t just to kick him in the ass about it _and_ ensure he remained stubborn enough no matter what to bring back a forgotten technique. It was the _principle_ of the matter, and he _got_ the crusty old bitch to admit it to his face.

She might’ve thrown his coffee into it right after, because she was a sour old relic of a hag that was physically incapable of just letting him have something over her, but _they_ knew what it had been all about and that was good enough for him.

Hence, he was completely satisfied even without becoming a master blacksmith. Even if he had to spend _two fucking days_ remaking a stupidly cheating shield _exactly_ because that idiot master smith had _wanted_ a completely useless ingot for whatever dumbass reason.

He still had to argue it out of old man Shin-Ra, who would gut him financially for the _pleasure_ to recap some of the cost of materials his head weapons maker had just chewed through. Tit for tat, whatever.

Had nothing to do with him.

Whatever Veld wanted from the situation was still pending, either confirmation or results, and that was more the Turk of Turks’ problem than his. He _did it_ , whatever happened afterwards the ass wouldn’t be able to bitch about dealing with it.

Of course, that last whole two-day effort left him in an agonized painful knot of overused muscles spasms. He had probably badly wrenched at least something in his upper back, he couldn’t raise his arms over his head right now, and quite frankly he wasn’t in _any_ damn shape to try to do his damn paperwork since his reading and writing skills were still _shit._

Unfortunately, time didn’t stop. Well, _it could_ be stopped for a short while with the right materia… but only for one person and time would continue its fucking march for everything else while you were frozen like a stupid statue until the magic ran out.

He still had reports coming in that needed to be signed off on, no longer end of year bonuses and last-minute holiday vacation requests to simply approve as his minions slowly trickled back to their assorted work or projects. Since he was actually trying to be worth the salary he was getting paid even when he couldn’t remember he was employed, that meant he had to either painfully go through his dictionaries for terms he couldn’t fucking remember or equally as painfully scribble something that would never be translatable on the right spots.

Scarlet really didn’t want to rely on the Turks getting his ass up to the gym just to prevent this kind of sore shit from happening again… but he might have to. Galling, _fucking stupid_ , and should be more _his_ responsibility than someone else’s, but he couldn’t rely on his own ass to do what he knew he should be doing to maintain his smithing skills so he didn’t cripple himself attempting something he knew he shouldn’t have done but was needed.

Someone, or more probably the few times he could remember not to be a lazy bastard or the intermittent forging he did occasionally, had ensured he could keep up with his own spear work. Bare minimum of his old fighting skills, and he had to be thankful for that little as it was.

However long of not eating right or being able to sleep for more than an hour or two per night had eaten away at him. Sucks, but that was the reality of it.

Scrawny and sickly was he. Still.

He also suspected that not traveling around and trading his blacksmithing skills for services rendered had _also_ rather badly impacted his health, but less in the way of ‘not healthy’ and more in the way of ‘not keeping muscle mass’.

Anyway, he was currently painfully going through the paperwork that built up while he had been distracted achingly slowly. He could dictate to Tanis instead, but his sub-department head had his own job to handle too and didn’t need Scarlet’s shit to handle because he was stupidly forgetful.

The asshole did more than enough just being able to translate his messy shit when it counted.

Master Nova had shit to do, Veld was entirely too busy to do more than send a Turk or two to keep an eye on him when in a publicly observable space, Reeve had his Division’s shit to handle… Scarlet wasn’t really expecting anyone.

“Well look at _you_ , Sunshine! Awake now and everything!”

“What the fuc… _Legend!_ You _son_ of a gun! Didn’t know you were still in Midgar, or _alive_ for that matter.”

The ginger haired ladies’ man grinned broadly, lounging against the doorway to his office and leering through those ever-present sunglasses like the last ten or so years never happened. “I got the heads up from Verdot. No need to sound so _shocked,_ Sunshine. Had to see for myself, you were _quite_ the wild one when you snapped and now you’re a tamed little pet! Who knew it was possible?”

“Fuck you, man.” With a snort, Scarlet put his aching arms over his confusing paperwork and planted a chin on an arm propped up on the other in lieu of lifting either himself. “No, it’s not _great_. Fucking _sucks._ Whatever, I’m here.”

“Make the best of it, yeah?” Fiddling with yet another cigarette to stick in his mouth, the old school Turk lifted a shoulder in a half-assed shrug to dismiss that. “Cool. Might as well. Hey, you up for lunch? Left the company some time ago myself, got into a bit of weapons dealing myself these days. I got a couple questions I’d _much_ rather you explain than some asshole I don’t remotely trust trying to sell me rusty trigger parts, at least I know _you_ know your shit.”

“Sure, give me two shakes of a spear tip.” Dumping the dictionaries back into his desk drawer and stacking all the paperwork back into his inbox, because he’d have to file it all later anyways, Scarlet gleefully abandoned the whole mess for an hour for someone he hadn’t seen in a long while. “Where?”

“Somewhere _not_ fucking Shin-Ra, the food they’ve got on offer here should be classified as a crime against humanity.”

“You will _not_ hear me complaining. Let me get the tab, though. They pay me for some fucking bizarre reason, might as well use it for _something_.”

“Sure, Sunshine.” Legend grinned, enterally happy because he was always in the face of just about everything. “What a treat. For once.”

“Shut _up_ , Legend. I was a poor working blacksmith back then, not an executive getting paid for doing _shit_.”

<<◊>>

After ‘lunch’ and as much fun as it was to drink, only one he wasn’t stupid and his arms still fucking hurt, with an old friend and watch him flirt with the waitresses and somehow _succeed_ with handicaps like ‘using the same stupid line the last drunk tried to pull off’… Scarlet hung out with enough Turks to know when he had been expertly removed from a situation for a reason.

With his own cooperation, because _Turks_.

It wasn’t like this was the first time. “So, Legend. What’s really up, man? You haven’t asked me jack about anything, bit sloppy there.”

“Do you _honestly_ like working there, Scarlet?” Not ‘Sunshine’, the former Turk was being about as serious as he ever got. Still in the uniform of one regardless and somehow pulling off white leather shoes as only he really could, Legend stubbed out his latest cigarette in the provided practically half full now ashtray and turned fully to face him across their bar table. “If I got you another option than fucking Shin-Ra, would you take it?”

Because, even if he ‘stole’ him out from under Veld’s nose, the explosives expert _was_ a friend he honestly answered the question as always. “I thought about it. Before Rufus demanded that he could get his shot in since I really, _really_ don’t like his dad. But there _are_ perfectly decent people in the company. Legend, man… I’d have to abandon _Verdot_. And he never abandoned me.”

“Loyalty… Sunshine, any other answer and I’d do it for you anyway.” The lanky man, and they were _all_ lanky or wiry in some shape or another except for Rude who had the muscles for the strength he had, gave him a strangely slanted if very wry grin. “Seriously, _seriously_ thinking about it and taking you back to Costa del Sol with me anyway. You are almost yourself again, and back then you kept on refusing for _years_. Though, to poke a major hole in your argument, _Professor Hojo_ works there with you too.”

“I said _are_ , not that they _all are_. Still don’t know how that greasy fuck is still alive.”

“Against your best efforts, and _man._ Sunshine? The _many times_ you tried to take that fuck’s head off…”

Scarlet blinked twice at him with the mostly empty beer bottle halfway to his mouth despite how his arm _screamed_ at him for doing, honestly and _utterly_ surprised at that tidbit about himself he hadn’t known yet. “What?”

Legend raised his glass, of something amber and significantly harder than his beer, with a tilt of his ginger head as if saluting him and grinning again without nearly as much good humor. “You keep trying to murder the ‘ _good Professor’_ every time you go nuts and there’s not something to shove in your hands to keep you distracted, half the time we’d only catch you because we’d know where the creepy shit is before you could find out in other ways. As unhinged as you get, you’re _incredibly determined_ once you have an idea in that little red head of yours. Especially if it’s murder.”

“ _How?”_

“You might hang out with us Turks, Sunshine, but you aren’t one. Left us the _tiniest_ edge in getting there before you, didn’t hurt we knew your end-game by that second attempt.”

“…you _didn’t_ ask Verdot about me or if I was better at all.” He belatedly realized as he lowered the bottle, a bit disgusted with himself for walking right into something that was starting to sound like a trap. “Are _you_ the company leak he's looking for?”

“Naw, Sunshine. I’m not that far gone. I still know what’s best for our own wellbeing, and I’m still a Turk. Company secrets are company secrets, even if I know them and don’t work there anymore. You’re just… more a Turk secret.”

“You’re trying to get me to snap again, probably hoping I’ll go after Hoko-hinky for you. Man, what the fuck? Do your _own_ dirty work.”

“Anything for the mission.” The former Turk agreed to darkly as he put down his glass. Obviously now unhappy enough for it to show up through his very laid-back personality and ready grin for everything, somewhat resigned but not a damn bit regretful for what he was here pulling. “And I can’t see another way that’ll work to shift Shin-Ra’s internal behemoth shit now that my guys and girls are dead. You always said people would do what they think is right regardless of the accepted party line… but I can at least help you complete what you started. Don’t hate me, Sunshine. At the very least, you’ll help clean up some of that shit-fest like you started so many years ago.”

“This isn’t okay, Legend. I lost _two months_ last time. Don’t.”

“Sorry, man. Did you hear about Vin-“

* * *

“What do you _mean_ , my _apprentice_ is _missing?”_ Snarled old Master Blacksmith Nova venomously, glaring down Reeve even if she was physically shorter than him as if it were _his_ fault. “Is that _not_ the purpose of this ugly fucking _eyesore_ , to _contain_ people and allow for their fucking _availability_ at all times?”

“I don’t know! The… well, there’s a group around here that _should know_ , but I don’t! Please don’t kill me?”

He maybe shouldn’t have added that last request, for a fragile seeming old woman bent by time and a hard life… she was not of a gentle nature nor remotely impressed with anything as it seemed. Much less himself, anyone else including the very man she once taught, the whole company, or Midgar itself.

 _Scarlet_ could deal with his cantankerous old master with good humor and amusement even if she threw things in his face or hit him with her cane, he seemed to expect and indeed strangely _enjoyed_ snarling back at her as he did swearing at miners. Reeve honestly wasn’t raised to swear at his elders and his upbringing conflicted with knowing the ancient blacksmith preferred a certain different way to deal with ‘youngsters’, leaving him utterly unable to handle her at all.

Master Nova heaved in a massive breath, as if she were half-ready to start bellowing in his face, then suddenly blew out the air in an aggravated sigh. “Is it an _emergency_ , boy?”

“Um… yes?”

“Then _state_ so. He is _employed_ , not _self-employed_ as most blacksmiths are. There _are allowances_.”

“Very sorry, it’s an emergency?”

The seemingly frail old woman turned her head exactly forty-five degrees to the side to _glower_ acid at the other master blacksmith, who crossed his arms over his chest irritably. “This is _most_ irregular, Master Nova.”

“I don’t _give a shit_. _Declare it._ I will witness as is proper, a stand-in is _allowed_. His friend, who has _already_ assisted in the testing, will fucking do.”

“Journeyman Scarlet has completed his mastery on this day, the nineteenth of January of the year nineteen-ninety-seven. When you _find_ the young man, someone let him know.”

Stamping her cane on the floor once as if to punctuate the other master’s statement, she then scowled darkly at the declaring master. “Now. _Fuck off._ ”

Insulted, though Reeve was a little too frazzled to properly sympathize with the poor man run ragged by the entire week-long event, the other middle-aged man did as bid. Sweeping out of the temporary forge set up on floor 44 with wounded dignity.

He had a slightly bigger issue in the next second as it was, Master Nova’s cane was suddenly right under his nose. The hooked end thankfully, not hard enough to even make his nose sting but pressing against his mustache firmly. “I, boy, _will be_ presented with _my foolish apprentice_ the _moment_ you are able to locate his dumb ass. Am I _understood?”_

“Yes ma’am!”

That seemingly wooden instrument of death and significant pain suddenly whirled to point directly at the redheaded Turk that brought him the terrible news that no one could find Scarlet _at_ work this morning. “You. Fuck _off_ as well. Find him. I will _remain_ with this boy until informed to do otherwise.”

The scrappy teenager he also didn’t know the name of grinned rather manically in their faces. “Got ‘chu, yo! Have fun with the old hag, Director Tuesti!”

Then the young Turk put his hands in his pockets and strutted off as ordered, _whistling cheerfully_ as he too left them on the very empty floor. The old woman had chased off everyone else mildly interested in the process of a journeyman blacksmith becoming a master some days ago, especially now there was nothing interesting to watch but two masters argue over the work of a third aspiring one.

Reeve valiantly didn’t whimper as he was left alone with her. Master Nova hadn’t stopped glaring _straight at him_ to point her walking stick in another’s face.

“You need a backbone, boy.” The elderly, fragile looking woman then smiled pleasantly as that walking cane returned to propping her up. “Luckily for you, I am here and very willing to _assist_ until such time I have better things to do.”

“We should… actually go see what Public Security can tell us, Master Nova.” He was slightly more terrified of that pleasant little smile than he was of her walking stick, since he _knew better_ after giving her one single cup of coffee. “Scarlet’s sub-department head said his paperwork was not finished, and the man was in his office the last anyone knew. He is also of the opinion there are very few his Director will leave his work unfinished for, so we might be able to help the search that way by finding who he left with.”

“Imagine that.” Observed Master Nova darkly, somehow making herself more terrifying with her very level and almost conversationally pitched tone. “Treachery.”


	16. Chapter 16

After refusing several newspapers, all the magazines that could be scrounge up from his entire office gained only a disgusted sneer, _and_ old Master Nova very nearly threw a book at his head which he ducked by some grace he hadn’t been aware he had only to then realize she threw it _behind_ his head not _at_ … Reeve belatedly realized Scarlet’s old master either couldn’t read or didn’t read anything in Midgardian very well. She looked at the various maps or posters pinned up on the walls of Urban Development’s office, gave glances at the reams of paperwork that still had to be done no matter what was going on in a corporation of Shin-Ra’s size, but it was all static or the searching look of someone examining a painting rather the rapid eye stops and starts that characterized someone reading printed words.

He _and_ his office workers were probably trying to offer something to read to an ancient illiterate master blacksmith who might be too proud to admit it.

As he wasn’t suicidal enough to ask which it was, given the elderly woman’s current very short temper, he debated with himself about what to offer that she _could_ accept. “Uh… Master Nova? Is there anything you would _like_ to do while we wait? This will take some time, to process so much data to find one instant in the security cameras might take hours.”

“What do _you_ do here, boy?”

Oh, my… he never did tell Scarlet’s master anything about himself instead of fret or worry in front of her. He didn’t think the redhead did either, but that was still rather not well done by him as it _was_ his responsibility to introduce himself to his elders. “I’m Reeve Tuesti, Master Nova. The Director of Urban Development. We, this office I mean, are the ones building Midgar. City planning, emergency services, zoning the plates for commercial or residential or service buildings. Census records, maintenance, and distribution of trade goods to the citizens as well.”

Master Nova tapped her fingertips together between her sensible trouser covered knees for a few silent seconds. “City planning… it’s a fucking _eyesore_ , kid.”

Well yes, but no. “…I don’t think Midgar _could_ compare to the natural beauty of a seaside village that is Mideel you and Scarlet came from-“

“Scarlet’s not _from_ Mideel. He just ended up there.”

“-but… are you _sure?”_

“He wandered in as a child after his parents were eaten by monsters, gained the name for his hair. Who the fuck _knows_ where he was born.” The elderly blacksmith informed him flatly, shockingly _not_ taking offense to the somewhat inane questioning of her apprentice that she probably knew better than the man himself did anymore. “Neither am I, but _someone_ had to teach the kid not to fucking kill himself trying to repair equipment that’s a fucking lost cause. His stubborn ass would’ve tried anyway. Can sail, can mend nets and lines, none too shabby as a hunter, fucking _hates_ fishing and does everything _but_ to avoid it. Said it bored him to tears.”

“He _is_ a very smart man, taught himself to read and write.”

Master Nova gave him a look that spoke _volumes_ of how entirely unimpressed she was with him. “He deemed it a skill he needed and went after it himself once I was done with him. I do not teach _idiots._ ”

…she _couldn’t_ read at all. Reeve hastily stuffed down the embarrassment at offering her something to read when she couldn’t to deal with later, accidentally shuffling the reports on Reactor Number Seven’s progress as an now active generator into the file he had just pulled out of his locked desk drawer… which were the records of observation on Scarlet’s nonsensical pattern of reality breaks and lucidity.

He would need to untangle them a bit very soon, the Turks installed another lock on his desk drawers to keep things regarding the Director of Advanced Weaponry’s uncertain mental health secured but his people would probably need to reference the reports on Reactor Number Seven rather soon.

“Scarlet put me in touch with several mining operations, Master Nova. Would you like us to place a few calls for you for you to speak with?”

“Kalm’s mythril mine, first. If you _must_.”

“I intend to get my work out of the way quickly, and delegate what I can to free up my time. But, for right now…”

“You need me to fuck off a little myself, got it.”

“That’s not, I mean… well, _yes_. But no!”

“Relax kid.” Master Nova deadpanned at his splutter, stroking that cane of hers with almost a thoughtful air. “Shit, you’d think after suffering through _Scarlet’s_ damn mouth you’d be less sensitive.”

“Like master, like student.” Reeve poked back without thinking about it, clapping his hands over his mouth a few seconds too late to stop the words.

Shockingly, the ancient blacksmith barked a high-pitched laugh. “ _Finally._ Seems you _do_ have a spine after all, boy.”

<<◊>>

“Okay, _look_. I _didn’t_ know he’d go berserk in my face like that.”

“We will _discuss_ your ‘initiative’ _later,_ Legend.” Verdot informed one of the Turks that trained him and had once worked with Scarlet as merely their freelance blacksmith sympathizer from the start, paging through the reports from all the checkpoints they had in Midgar. “After we _find him_.”

Legend prodded the shallow bruise on his jaw, mildly disgruntled. At either being caught red-handed or that he allowed the missing blacksmith in question to start a bar brawl that enabled his escape before the ex-Turk could ‘assist’ him in his usual insane drive to kill the Director of Research and Science. “At least he can’t throw a damn punch anymore, if it were ten years ago I’d probably be drinking my food through a straw for a couple months.”

“If you _had_ spoken to me before extracting Scarlet out of the Shin-Ra Headquarters for this _ill-informed_ lark of yours, I could have _informed_ you the patterns had changed and we could no longer guess with any accuracy what he would do in response.”

“…not going to kill me for trying to get Sunshine to kill Hojo?”

“If Scarlet had it his way, sane or not, the _good Professor_ would already be dead. I’m starting to wonder if I can prevent that at all. Keeping him from _finding_ the inanest reasons to commit homicide is becoming significantly harder while he’s sane. Practically _anything_ starts Scarlet’s plotting, eventually he won’t care that I am standing in his way.” Finding nothing yet _again_ , he bitterly wondered just what memory his friend was pulling on to avoid Midgar’s many security cameras.

Possibly the mission they had needed Scarlet’s engineering skills in Fort Condor and dragged the bemused but willing blacksmith along to help them install sensors into a few specific locations, _technically_ without permission and hence needing to instruct the younger redhead how to avoid being caught.

Having never asked _why_ a blacksmith knew of acoustics besides one text purchased and speedily read through on the way to ‘familiarize himself with what _others_ know’, Verdot did not know the real reason Scarlet knew anything about the topic. Not as he knew perfectly well why the man volunteered the answers to Vincent’s careful probing of how to better hide the installation of such.

Then again, the answer to why likely had to do with yet another ‘idiot’ master blacksmith and their incredibly poor workshop setup that echoed every hammer blow back to innocent journeyman smiths ‘not _honestly_ there to criticize the master to infuriation _again_ , I _swear._ ’

“…and what are you going to do to keep Scarlet safe from the President’s very obvious response, then?”

“Hook the man up with a dictation taker and have him expound on _all_ the random Certa-related information he knows. I easily see another six-twelve years of material to distract the President with once Scarlet gets through with his many off-the-wall theories, if what _little_ he’s alluded to and told to me is still enough for an entire _textbook_ of the where and whys. By then Rufus would have more than enough time to wrestle control of the company away from his father.”

“So, you’ve been _planning_ on it?” Legend inquired slyly, his almost ever-present grin starting to regrow on his superficially bruised features only now lacking his usually present sunglasses lost to the floor of a Midgar bar. “Me oh my, rookie. Imagine _that._ ”

“I _always_ have contingency plans, Legend.”

“…it was completely different this time, Verdot.” The older Turk, if retired, informed him while he lost the mildly infuriating expression. “As night to day. Sunshine’s never been _desperate_ before, not while he’s like that. Intense, brat’s nothing _but_ when he’s feeling driven, but not that desperate. Hell, rookie, not even that first time we finally caught him after his mind first went missing. Fuck… what I wouldn’t give to have _Valentine_ and his tracking skills back, Sunshine always liked him better.”

Verdot gave the man handcuffed to one of his two visitor chairs a dry, irritated glare. “If Vincent were _here,_ we would never have lost _Scarlet_ at all. Given the severity of how badly his mind breaks down when his name is even _mentioned_ … I suspect his death might have been one of the last straws for Scarlet’s mind.”

While they both were aware the handcuffs were merely a formality the older man didn’t necessarily _have_ to obey and could easily escape from, it also kept Verdot from shooting Legend through the head. Therefore, neither of them had any reason to _further_ express displeasure with the other’s actions or inactions and escalate the situation.

“Bad news, boss. Just finished chatting with the construction workers at the curtain wall of Sector Five. Scarlet has _booked_ it out of the city from what they saw, yo.” Reno leaned into his office to inform him of, giving the handcuffed older Turk a sideways eyeing but otherwise refraining from commenting on the likely unknown presence dressed as one of them when he said nothing about it. “Evaded all the checkpoints, like ya said he would.”

Verdot sighed heavily, resigned to losing track of his friend despite his faith in him to keep him safe from exactly this complication.

“That’s… not good.” Legend tilted his head towards him, a thoughtful frown on his face now. “Why _out?_ He’s never gone in the _opposite_ direction than where that greasy fuck’s standing.”

“Donno, yo, but. Ain’t everything. He’s _unarmed._ Didn’t even _bother_ grabbing even a knife from the bar, or at least no one’s spotted it yet. No spear taller than he is, no gun, no bangle of materia, nothing.”

“Damn it, Sunshine. What the _hell?_ You _can’t_ throw a punch anymore. Least, not a _good_ one.”

“Reno, take Shotgun’s place and send her out after Scarlet. We may not catch up with him before anything happens, but she might be able to.” Verdot laced his fingers together and planted his elbows on top of his desk as the younger redhead turned on the spot to carry out his orders. “Legend, it is probably _likely_ Scarlet is now evading us for he’s _never_ been stabbed in the back by a Turk. He never before bothered at all, which now means he will not return to his own home or the Shin-Ra building with us here.”

“Yeah? What’s the bigger betrayal, here? The one where I’m fully willing to help him finish the job he started eight years ago that he _should’ve succeeded in_ if we had _any_ fucking sense… or _you_ , for sticking him _exactly where he didn’t want to be?”_

“Scarlet has managed to inform me, from what little he can _stand_ to think about, was that he had no choice. That he did not know what else to do but nothing, from what he informed another Director of that it _was his fault_ , to let his mind break apart instead. And, as he informed his master, that he thought the price was _worth it._ ”

Legend considered the information, not just the conclusion Verdot intended him to arrive at. “So… you think Sunshine broke _himself_ instead of let someone use him? That’s pretty sketchy, rookie. We might not have spent every day of every week with the brat, but we _did_ use him often if not for a civilian to distract shit with than as a blacksmith who could fix your stupid guns or make us better equipment when it broke. If someone tried it, he’d eventually tell one of us. Sunshine wasn’t the kind of guy to just sit on his problems, more the ‘grab the dragon by the horns’ guy and commence wrestling it down.”

“By choice.”

“…you wanna explain that one?”

“Scarlet _let us_ use him. Always, every time, he chose to help us or kept his mouth shut and repaired something instead. More often, he chose to assist than insist he was too involved in his studies.”

The explosive expert fiddled with the handcuff, not to take it off but just to run something through his fingers as he would either a cigarette or a cigarillo usually. “Are you still of the opinion it _started_ before us? By the time you and Vincent met him… he probably already told whomever to fuck off but didn’t _deal_ with it. Think they came back to try again after Valentine was declared dead?”

“Raises the question of why he would not inform me, but if he was irrationally afraid it might not have mattered.”

“As amusing as theory-mongering is, without the details you still have nothing to fix blame on.”

“Aside from you, and the _vastly different_ reaction this time compared to the others. When he very clearly asked you _not to._ ”

“I’m _here_ , aren’t I?” Insisted the explosive expert, jerking the wrist tethered to the chair’s reinforced arm so it would clang. “The _moment_ I realized something was very wrong about it this time.”

“Did not _stop you_.” Verdot pointed out darkly, unlacing his hand to pick up the phone when it rang only to hear the correct coded phrase to inform him Tseng had reached the Reactor an Infantryman had been abducted from and would start his investigation. Hanging up again, the Director of the Turks could only cross his arms on his desk and continue the conversation until his involvement was needed again. “Speaking of not stopping, ‘Death God of the Battlefield’… we do need to discuss _keeping me informed_ in order to minimize the loss of life while operations are ongoing.”

“…Shin-Ra _murdered_ my whole crew.”

“Infantry. We didn’t know it was _your_ people and therefore could not have it handled _in-house_ , Legend. I am now only as effective as the information I am _supplied_ with.”

“The Turks were never supposed to be a whole operation of gravediggers, we were pushing it with _Sunshine’s_ inclusion back then and he wasn’t a Turk. You give that asshole enough rope, rookie, he’ll hang you and everyone else he can catch by it eventually.”

“I am not _unaware_ of President Shin-Ra’s lack of a moral compass, Legend.”

“His father and uncle are probably _rolling_ in their graves. Fuck, man, he probably _killed them_ himself.”

“And thus why he is likely on the lookout for the opportunity to cut me off at the knees, I am _aware of this_ Legend.” Any man with dark secrets to keep feared spies, even the spies loyal to his company that worked for him. “I have contingency plans and the blackmail already gathered to render his expected attempt ineffective, there will be no major interruption of our work however it resolves itself. Furthermore, I never had anything done about your recreational retirement occupation for a _reason_ …”

Legend also turned to the office doorway curiously as Verdot trailed off, likely wondering just which of the newer Turks it was huffing so loudly outside the room when the only truly young teenage agent didn’t.

Reeve Tuesti didn’t so much as gracefully enter the head Turk’s office as spill into it, attempting to juggle the paperwork he had compressed against his chest to transport them all in a way that would not let the papers spill out from under his arms. “Verdot! I found it… oh, my. Should I… come back later?”

Unexpected. “Were you not minding Master Nova for us, Reeve?”

“We set her up with a phone and the numbers to a couple mines, miners and blacksmiths apparently have many things to say to one another. Doesn’t seem to matter when they last saw any party in the flesh, wonderful thing even if they are a bit overly colorful. Absolutely _fascinating_ to listen to.” Catching himself with an abrupt cough, the Director of Urban Development flushed slightly at Legend’s very amused grin aimed in his direction. “Were you busy? I can come back later, it’s not… well, it makes _no sense_. Then again, it wasn’t like anything about Scarlet’s situation seemed all that sensible either…”

“I am _very_ interested if you can explain _anything_ , Reeve.”

“Don’t mind me, Reevie. I was just a bit naughty. Let’s hear it, man.”

Gratifyingly, the Director first turned to ensure Verdot did not have an objection to speaking on the topic in front of a man he likely never saw in the Shin-Ra building before. After a second to complete his check, the younger man nodded shortly himself and explained his sudden haste.

“It’s the Reactors. _Every time_ Scarlet suddenly wasn’t absent or forgetful, we had _just turned on or reset_ another Reactor. After the first time I saw Scarlet absent-minded? When he suddenly was perfectly fine in _days_ not _weeks_ and could _remember_ Tseng as who he was other than glossing over his presence entirely? We turned on Reactor Number Five that same morning. One of the Turks accidentally brought up a topic he couldn’t handle? The _day_ afterwards we _reset_ Reactor Number Zero as we didn’t need the secondary pumps for pressurized mako, so we uninstalled them because the Research and Science Division complained about them interfering with their equipment. The _night before_ the start of his mastery testing? I turned on Reactor Number _Seven_ that same night to clear my schedule to help distract the master blacksmiths if you needed.”

Verdot tried to comprehend that kind of coincidence, utterly failed, then had to try to take the situation at face value until more information was supplied. “There is no chance it is merely coincidence?”

“We know, from young Sephiroth’s report, _exactly when_ Scarlet woke up after Knife shattered his mind again. Nearly the exact same time down to the _minute after,_ Verdot, to when we reactivated Reactor Number Zero.”

Legend suddenly straightened up in his chair. “Verdot, _Sunshine_ just _left_ Midgar.”

“Who… _what?”_

Scarlet had left the only place in the Planet that had more than one Reactor nearby, when from all apparent signs his sanity was somehow linked to them.

“Reeve, now you have an effect can you _trace_ it _back_ to a cause?”

“Verdot, it _doesn’t make sense_. No one has this kind of reaction to _Reactors._ I _designed_ them, I keep up with all the reports on them just in case there’s a flaw I didn’t account for.” Very nearly raising his arms only to clamp them back against his paperwork hastily before they could do more than shift threateningly, the head of Urban Development hissed out a breath. “This _should not_ be happening, no one is _that_ sensitive to _mako levels_.”

“Discard ‘should’. If it is, then it is. We will deal with it as it is, not as what should be.” Yet… what _could_ give a man, completely human in his reactions to every medical test he had been subjected to in the last decade to try and find a cause for his mental instability, a _sensitivity_ to mako levels around him? “Reeve, excellent work. You have my personal thanks for isolating the mechanisms for Scarlet’s recovery.”

“You thinking of something over there, rookie?”

He glanced at the man who had started the whole situation, even if unintentionally by attempting to create a quite different one. “We _all_ have it. Mako. If Scarlet never _told us_ what, and he’s _sensitive_ to mako, then what he is running from is something _inside of him_. Something he can’t escape or explain to us, something that reaches him _every night_ no matter where he goes.”

“…he does swear to his ‘goddess’ a lot, and we as a group were never really… religious. Except him.”

“ _At_ , Legend. Scarlet swears _at_ his goddess.”

The older Turk considered that. “Did he _meet_ her? Or _think_ he did?”

“Then explain this reaction to the Reactors.” Verdot wryly suggested, drumming the fingers of his right hand on the desk between them. “He’s been there. He said it wasn’t a _temple_ , it was a _lock_. For one ‘could find _Her_ if you know enough’.”

“Rookie… man, Verdot? An _actual_ Goddess? Bit outside our paygrade, tiny bit.”

“Scarlet also informed me the previous ‘price’ of failure, of refusal, was _beheading._ ”

“… _bit_ more literal than I like, there.”

He snorted, keeping an eye on the more than just horrified Director of Urban Development to be sure the man didn’t faint after rendering him this superb service of his time and effort. “Scarlet’s been _denying_ his Goddess. For more than ten years. Because, as he put it, She’s a _bitch._ ”

Legend raised his hands, one only as far as the chain of his handcuffed wrist allowed for. “And now I’m out. Kill a man, sure. Blow up whatever? I’m your man. Burn something down? Not _quite_ my speed, but why not? Therapy for our favorite religious nutcase? Don’t know _where_ to start unwrapping that.”

“It wouldn’t matter if it’s real or not,” Reeve interjected shakily, actually more disturbed by the older Turk’s frank summary of how far his willingness stretched than before at the conclusion that their blacksmith was affected by the very Reactors themselves, “if _Scarlet_ believes it… I could try forever to find a reason or a logic but won’t find anything. That brings us back to the sensitivity of mako levels around him, he didn’t know. _Couldn’t_. The times we start up or reset a Reactor are _not published_ anywhere outside my office and those records are kept under lock and key, _your department_ ensures that.”

“I am a _mortal man._ I can’t kill a fucking _deity_.” The explosive expert paused, pondered something, then let his hands drop back to the arm rests of the chair. “I could try to _seduce_ Her, I guess. I mean… probably would be the first to try even _if_ nothing happens from it besides getting _some_ information. Totally will take that fall for Sunshine if he needs me to. Can’t really do any less for him now, can I?”

Verdot intently examined the ceiling of his own office for the five seconds it took for the younger man to stop spluttering, then remained staring upwards as the avalanche of paperwork Reeve likely brought with him to provide the hard data to back up his information if need be finally fell to the floor. “Legend, shut up.”

“…thought, if you’re _right_ here rookie, Sunshine’s been pitting his stubborn self against an actual fucking _Goddess_ who can _always_ _reach him_ no matter what. Longer than _we_ knew him for. Not ten, what? _Fifteen_ years? _Twenty?_ Begs the question… just what _She_ asked of him he didn’t want to do. He didn’t mind helping _us_ , and we’re not all that ‘righteous’ or ‘noble’ in the shit we asked of him.”

“It hadn’t been _bad_ , Scarlet wasn’t obviously _stressed_ , until shortly after Valentine went on his last mission to bodyguard those scientists.” He reminded the older Turk, drawing his mouth tight as more and more parts of the puzzle fit better with this interpretation of events. “After… once Valentine died?”

“Reported dead. There’s no body, somehow. You’d think there’d be one for a fucking death on _guard duty_ in a little mountain town in the middle of fucking nowhere.” Legend reminded him back sourly. “And Sunshine keeps trying to kill one of the scientists Valentine was supposed to be guarding. Quite the _shocking_ coincidence there, rookie. Don’t you think?”

“I do not _deal_ in coincidence and assumptions. I deal in what _is._ ” Verdot picked up his phone again, dialing a few numbers and speaking as soon as the ringing stopped. “Knife, go to the old Shin-Ra mansion in Nibelheim. If you spot Scarlet, do _not_ apprehend him. Your mission is to inform me of his arrival then follow, ensure he comes to no harm. You do not need to avoid being spotted, but if he retreats from you then attempt to limit exposure. Your backup will be Shotgun, if and when she arrives.”


	17. Chapter 17

“… _that’s_ new.”

“He’s been doing it _since_ he left the Midgar Wastes. Think he could _always_ do it?”

Knife considered Shotgun’s bewildered question, contemplating both the grimly silent madman they were sent out to ‘back up’ for whatever reason _and_ the monsters he could somehow rip in two with something that looked _eerily close_ to a Limit Break ability.

Only… a Limit Break that Scarlet could apparently use _at will_ and without the weapon he was most familiar with in hand.

He wasn’t armed, a completely barehanded spearman, yet his magic formed up a spear-shape for him and he used it to swing some darker elemental type that just separated whatever he used it against with gratuitous amounts of gore.

Almost like the blood and guts of the creatures attempting to stop him were being _sucked out_. Everything he used it against was _blown out_ in _Scarlet’s_ direction, not in the line of that unearthly ability he was only now showing he could do.

“If he could, and I’m not suggesting he _could’ve_ , he wouldn’t have anyway. We were _always_ in his way, that doesn’t look like it cares what’s in the way. He’s felled a couple trees with it if the monsters are in front of them just circling this _wreck_.”

The local villagers would be out soon to check what was making the monsters screech and wail as they were torn apart, and what was ripping through trees with explosive force. Hopefully, they would get _inside_ before that happened.

Shotgun held up a finger as they continued to follow Scarlet into the old Shin-Ra mansion by a formerly well secured side door until the blacksmith decided it was in his way and made it fall in line with his crazy expectations. “Before _this,_ whatever it is. Whatever happened to make him _run_ for it. Reno didn’t tell me a whole lot before he swapped me out.”

“I don’t know any more than you do, the Director just ordered me here and told me you two were coming. Probably.” Reminded of this part of her orders, Knife took out one of the prototyped cellular phones that needed no hardline connection and punched in the Turk-hotline code as she and her fellow Turk followed the madman into the building from a side entrance. “I am informing whoever is interested that my orders have been completed, awaiting reassignment or further directions.”

“ _Await his call._ ”

Pulling the block of only _possibly_ exploding circuitry and mako away from her ear, Knife frowned at the device but didn’t put it back into the armored carryall she picked it up in from the Turk stash of equipment for emergency missions supplies. “Always think this thing’s two seconds from exploding.”

Shotgun hummed to show she heard, still cautiously keeping herself and by proxy Knife from accidentally treading into Scarlet’s limited awareness for other things while he hunted around for whatever it was he wanted here.

“How the _hell_ did you two get across the ocean, anyway?” She asked, intent on gathering up all the information Director Verdot would want to know before he asked her. “I got _airlifted_ here a week ago.”

“…he stole a ship from the harbor of Junon. Sailed us across himself, the only point I got any sleep.” The other woman frowned even harder, shooting her a worried look that made her neatly contained long hair swing around freely. “Scarlet was _not happy_ I was so close to him when he usually doesn’t care all that much. I had to sit in the middle of the boat with my hands on my head to get him to calm down, but he wouldn’t look away for long while he maneuvered the ship until we spotted the coast. That’s why we’re staying this far back, he doesn’t _care_ we’re here but he’s not going to _accept_ us so close anymore.”

Said madman suddenly turned around, holding some papers he picked from the entire _wealth_ of them around and eerily intent on the two of them for no apparent reason, though Knife was sure it was due to needing someone to read whatever was in his hands for him.

However haggard Scarlet usually appeared in Midgar did him no favors now he was outside of the city, and however many days of nearly constant travel and whatever that ability of his pulled on did not help his appearance any. Even more gaunt and haunted looking, his hair snarled and matted with any number of twigs and wood splinters to go with the sawdust and monster grime coating his usual cargo pants and usually dark colored tank tops. “Knifey-Stabby, your mind still _works_. Yeah?”

“Better than yours.” She handed Shotgun the cellular phone, to free her hands just in case she needed both.

He might be able to rip her in half with little effort, abusing that ability even more no matter what cost in magic he was paying for it, but she _would_ defend herself at least. Worse yet, instead of becoming amused at her snipping or even _twitching_ when Shotgun drew and fired on a dorky face monster before the man ripped the very walls apart in his apathy of collateral damage or the risk thereof in his own defense, Scarlet kept staring straight at her.

“…do you need me to read something for you, sir?”

“You _will not_ wake him. He says _no,_ knifey-stabby. Wake him, _I’ll_ put you to sleep.”

“Understood.” Was there someone else _here_ with them?

This place was _abandoned_ , no one had come out here in _years_ , but Scarlet expected this ‘him’ to not only be alive but saying he didn’t want to ‘wake’ enough to respect that choice and try to ensure they would as well.

She never heard the man having _delusions_ before this, he just did or did not remember anything and tried to never sleep. She didn’t particularly like the idea he might’ve just started, not when he was apparently dictating the parameters of their crazy-fueled mission until they had orders otherwise.

She shared a glance with Shotgun, who wasn’t being asked not to wake anyone. “I assure you, sir. On everything sacred you might hold. I will not wake ‘him’.”

Knife earned herself a demented, twisted and somewhat twitching grin this time. “Best not swear on _Her,_ Knifey-Stabby. Or you’ll end up like _me_.”

Could she perhaps get the _names_ of all these people they were referring too?

“I swear on the _knives you made me_ , sir, I will not ‘wake’ whomever.”

That earned her the tossed papers, folded up and compacted to not flutter away. Scarlet was _not_ getting near them even for his own aims, which collaborated with what her mission partner had said.

Straightening them out, Knife took one look at the passages written on the notes and froze. Horrified.

“…Knife?”

“You _swore_ , Turk.” The madman damned her further, strident about this point even after she realized she gave in too easily. “He says _no._ ”

“Sir.” Swallowing uneasily, she flattened out the pages again. “What’s legible of the first reads ‘ _I must get rid of all those that stand in the way of my research. Even that one from the Turks.’_ Sir… Director Scarlet, if he’s still _here_ then-“

“No. Keep going.”

She swapped the pages, more relieved than she wanted to examine as the phone suddenly _finally_ rang and Shotgun answered it for her. “Then next… reads ‘ _I scientifically altered him and put him in the basement. If you want to find him, then search the area._ ’ Sir, we’re only _as good_ as our information. Can we not just _update_ him, but let him go back to ‘sleep’ after?”

“If he wakes _himself,_ sure. Whatever. _Keep going._ ”

Knife swapped the pages around again, as her mission partner rapidly filled in their own Director of what had happened and this disturbing interlude in Scarlet’s mad mission. “The last is ‘ _But… this is merely a game I thought of. It is not necessary for you to participate if you don’t want to’_. Who is _he_ , sir?”

“The _original_ Turk. Keep _going._ ”

“That’s the last… sorry sir. They were stuck together.” Peeling the last page from the back of the apparent third she grimaced as the fragile surface unstuck as long-dried humidity and time crackled apart, threatening to tear the old paper in her hands and lose whatever he was so intent upon. “This one is ‘ _Move the dial on the safe carefully, but quickly. You have twenty seconds. You can not go past the numbers while turning. The four hints for the numbers are: dial one, the lid of the box with the most oxygen; dial two, behind the Ivory’s short of tea and ray; dial three, the creek in the floor near the chair on the second floor… then to the left five steps, up nine steps, left two steps, and up six steps…_ ’ there’s not a fourth one, sir.”

“I’ll find it. I just don’t _remember_.” The madman grinned at them both, as cheerful as he usually was when not completely out of his mind. “We just need to go past, Knifey-Stabby. We won’t be popping by for a chat, he’s not interested.”

Shotgun slid closer as the currently crazy blacksmith turned on a heel and stalked off, aiming for the staircase to the second floor and they had to follow quickly or risk the whole mansion coming down on their heads as Scarlet kept ripping apart everything in their way. “Director says we can _come back_ , don’t provoke him. He’s on his way.”

…and _Knife_ was the only one stupid enough to swear to the other Director about not ‘waking’ anyone. “Right.”

She took back the fragile device and secured it back into the armored pouch for it, freeing both their hands from the liability. There weren’t too many monsters that had crept into the place yet, strangely given how securely the whole place had been locked down before being abandoned.

It was a little too large for a hell house infestation, at least. Half-metal ghirofelgos hung from the ceiling in spots like living lethal pendulums that cannibalized the light fixtures and probably all the actual loose metal left here to have prevented the haunted house manifestation, and the poltergeist-like dorky faces that had moved in instead had more than enough materials and strings around to assemble their preferred if rather stupid looking visages from the antique curtains and furniture. Rather typical for a location that was not regularly defended or cleared out for several years if not longer, even if they had clearly seen the blacksmith _make_ an entrance rather than find one.

“Knifey-Stabby! I need your memory again!”

“…that was quick.” Shotgun volunteered lowly as she carefully edged around the madman pointing at a _chest_ of all things.

“Largest _container_ in the whole fucking nightmare!” Scarlet insisted madly, regardless if he heard the other woman and intended to try explaining himself or not. “Capacity, _holds the most oxygen,_ see?”

“It can hold more than any other containers we’ve seen so far.” She allowed for to pacify him, quickly glancing at the lid of the steamer trunk they were apparently not opening. “…there is writing on the back of the lid, sir. ‘One right thirty-six’.”

“Remember that.” He cautioned her, a strange body-wide twitch making him flinch momentarily. “You need to… I won’t. I can’t.”

“I’ve got it for you, sir.”

“Back downstairs.” He directed without commenting on that, not moving until both Knife and Shotgun started backing up to give him the space he seemed to feel he needed now.

“He’s _talking._ ” Pointed out the other Turk quietly again, as they both retreated down the hallway enough that the madman wouldn’t stare at them pointedly anymore and move on in his hunt for what appeared to be safe numbers. “He _never_ talks like this.”

“What part of all this _makes_ any damn sense, Shotgun?”

The normally perky blonde from Mideel sighed sadly, still watching the back of her fellow islander as he went right back downstairs so she could shoot everything that tried to approach the man.

“She’s _letting up_ , since I _can_ finally get half that damn _bitch._ ” Scarlet informed them both almost conversationally. “I’m not… Knifey-Stabby’s still _right,_ I’m crazy. It’s never, it _won’t_ , get better. Half isn’t _all_.”

“Are we here to murder someone, sir?”

The man stopped suddenly, forcing both Turks to immediately scramble out of his bubble of ‘as long as you’re not within this distance I won’t kill you’. He turned to her, _fucking curiously_. “Does it count if it’s _already dead?”_

“…no sir?” Knife tried cautiously, as it seemed the madman really was honestly _talking to them_ rather than at because he deemed he had to in order to go back to what he was doing. “If ‘it’s’ already dead, then it can’t be murder.”

“Then no, Knifey-Stabby. We’re not here to kill anything.” Having reassured either himself adequately or the women with him very badly, he continued to a new room with a piano and several windows. Probably a break room, back when this place was used for something. “They use _bone_ to make the keys to a piano, ladies. Tickle the _Ivory._ ”

Though Knife was only on board this crazy mission as it seemed they had a missing in action Turk trapped here, she did inspect the dust encrusted musical instrument in the room. “Do we need to play it, Director?”

“No…” The man drew out, pointing at the floor next to the piano. “… _behind_ , Knifey-Stabby. Between the tea and ray.”

“Sun rays?” Shotgun guessed curiously, gesturing to the windows with her shotgun’s barrel.

Knife shifted to search the areas that the sun wouldn’t reach with how the room was positioned, still near the piano. “Yeah. ‘Two left ten’, it’s written on the floor here.”

“You-“

“I’ll remember for you, sir.” Instead of an immediate shift to find the third part of whatever safe combination there was, Scarlet actually _looked_ at her. Not just in her direction, not through her, but at Knife herself as if finally seeing she was there. “Sir?”

“…why are you _here?”_

“You’re here, sir.”

Scarlet blinked at her blankly, then looked around curiously himself. “Huh, so I am… trippy.”

Not _particularly_ encouraging of a reaction, in her opinion. “Sir, _Director Scarlet._ The directions point us upstairs again, should we not go find the third part of the safe combination?”

The madman considered that, returning his less absent gaze to her again. “He supplanted _me_ , Knifey-Stabby. I got there first, and for a given value of ‘willing’ as you consider ‘only _I_ was that stupid’. He wasn’t willing. He’s not as _damaged_ as I am, even if _that greasy fuck_ damaged him worse, and She can’t fully reach him with how things happened not like She can me… but in the grand scheme of things, he’s better than _I_ am. Superior. He says _no_. What he says goes, always.”

“Your superior said no, so he stays asleep and I do not wake him. Yes sir, you’ve ensured I understood that. But, sir, you _did_ say that if he’s awake or wakes himself I can inform him of the situation.” Knife reminded him, hoping at least _that_ stuck in the man’s short-term memory enough for him not to go ballistic at her if they did talk to whichever MIA Turk it was trapped in this hellhole.

“I don’t know what he saw in her, to forget us.” Scarlet informed her conversationally, not that same firm if crazy authority he used just seconds ago. “But it was his choice, and so we respected that. Mostly.”

…descriptive. “That’s what friends _do_ , Director. Respect their life choices, mock them when their backs are turned.”

She earned another, less insane toothy grin for that _then_ the man finally started wandering off again.

Knife took in Shotgun’s completely _pale_ and shocked expression as they followed. “What?”

“Knife, the _Turk_ we can’t _mention_ to him. Was declared _KIA_ a _decade and a half ago._ ”

“…the… _original_ Turk. Well _shit._ He’s _alive?”_ Somewhere underneath or around them, was _Vincent Valentine._ The Turk that trained _Verdot_ , who worked with and was the ‘superior’ to a formerly non-recruited if saner Scarlet to the point the man _still_ respected the orders of now out of his own mind. “He’s what now, _fifty?_ Is he even _fit_ enough to survive here?”

She glanced at the man leading them back up the stairs of the old Shin-Ra mansion again. “He seems to think so, and with everything else I’ve seen all week… I don’t know.”

They both winced when a ghirofelgo tried to launch a surprise attack and ended up rendered in two _lengthwise_ from the blacksmith’s bizarre ability that also took a good chunk out of the roof instead of a load bearing wall. “What I want to know is what is _that?”_

“I fell. Failed, fallen. Whichever. Blackguard, not… well. I was one for about _three_ seconds. My internal ‘magics’ got imprinted on _that_ instead of ‘holy’.” Scarlet shot them both a less than stable-appearing smirk sloppily over a shoulder. “I told Her to go _fuck_ Herself, Her plan is _stupid._ ”

“What was her plan?” Knife inquired, less out of curiosity but because Verdot would probably like all the information they could pump out of the man while he was feeling chatty.

“Kill everything, start over. I mean, _yeah_ it’d _work…_ but a bit _extreme_. I can _fix it_ … maybe. It’ll take a bit of _doing_ , and I somehow had to go… fuck, what? Eleven. Eleven more _years_ like that somehow. With Her bitching and complaining and _insistence_ to go trigger an apocalyptic-level event. Then _he_ started, because he wouldn’t accept anything less if he chose to invest himself in something… he says _no_ , I _get it_. He can’t _hear us_ , between _Her_ and him I was… not in a good spot. My head hurt… _so much._ ”

“…I just keep on getting more questions, listening to him.” Shotgun confided to her tiredly.

“Knifey-Stabby! Found it, you might need to read it because like _fuck_ I can.”

“I… sir, the hint was a chair-“

“Squeaky floors. That clue is _stupid._ Everything will end up squeaking eventually when left to rot like this. But there’s more scribbles to read!” Scarlet obligingly backed up every step forward she took, until she spotted the same thing he did when the wood under her shoes creaked. “What’s our number?”

“Okay, I see it. It’s ‘three right fifty-nine’, sir.”

“…can you check the notes, again? There should’ve been _four_ clues, right? Four numbers for a safe-combination?” Scarlet asked leadingly, without any care he was doing it or that it was obviously clear to them.

“There wasn’t sir, it just stopped…” Knife glared at the paper she had stuffed into a slack pocket but pulled out when he asked for it, then at the man. “How?”

“Invisible ink. When you pried apart the pages, you broke a seal and activated the oxidation in the ink to start showing up. You must look at it _twice_. I would’ve done it… but I can’t read anything right now.”

Not remotely mollified as that didn’t answer how he _knew_ , she looked at the randomly appearing line that hadn’t been there when she read the information off the first time. “It’s ‘dial four is right ninety-seven’, sir.”

Scarlet merely shrugged at her. “You need to go put that back… once we’re done. If I _fail…_ they’re going to need it.”

“…as you say, sir.” Like _hell_. Director Verdot would be getting the papers to hunt down whichever asshole thought they could trap one of their own in this hellhole, then they’d rip apart this entire monster-infested _nightmare_ to be sure all the crimes against them were accounted for and paid in blood. “The full combination is right thirty-six, left ten, right fifty-nine, then right ninety-seven. Where is the safe?”

Again, instead of what was expected in his own self-imposed mission, the madman didn’t move. “Hoko-hinky wrote the ‘game’, Knifey-Stabby. It’s a trap… but we have to get through it anyways. Otherwise, we’d have to get half a corpse through the mountains and a possibly broken rickety rope bridge. I’ve _been here_ before, but the _bitch_ wasn’t. I know where the mako spring is, that’s where we have to take it.”

This mission got worse and worse by the second. “Understood sir, we’re walking into a trap. Thank you for letting us know.”

Scarlet jerked, surprised somehow. Then he looked at Shotgun as if only just realizing the other woman was guarding their backs despite passing her a couple times and doing his whole trip out here with her shadowing him. “Oh… when did you get here?”

“A while ago, sir. Yes, I know the orders you passed on to Knife. We are not to ‘wake’ him and if he is awake himself, we can brief him but if he wants to go back to sleep then he may. The trap, sir?”

“It’s not meant for _us._ It was meant for _Verdot._ Just in case he ever ‘investigated’ behind that sick fuck’s back. You _need_ more than one, to spread the damage and live through it… and he’d _never_ ask his people to poke into something like this, long since done and just because he might be suspicious of the hows or whys of a personal loss. The puzzle with just enough ‘hints’ to tire him out but keep him heading in the right direction, trapped safe to kill him. It’s the only way _forward_.”

Knife felt her blood run cold. “Then let’s take care of it for him, Director Scarlet.”

He grinned broadly at her, gaunt and dirty without care making him appear even more a crazy madman than he usually did, almost fucking _fond_. “Let’s, Knifey-Stabby, Shotty-Dotty. Shoot when I say, then let me _rip the fuck apart._ It’s not _magic_ , see… it’s a _blessing_ to a _blackguard._ For _finally_ doing Her work. Are you two _ready?”_

“I have all my knives, sir.”

“…are there _any_ shotgun shells in the building, Director Scarlet?” Shotgun asked apologetically, cracking open the barrel of her weapon and replacing the ammunition she had spent already with fresh shells.

“Downstairs, I think… but they’re pistol or rifle… or I think there’s machine gun ammunition… not any shotgun shells, Shotty-Dotty. You might need to be on support duty, sorry.”

She obligingly swapped around some of her equipped materia for a few of Knife’s, ensuring the mid-leveled Restore was slotted next to an All in her gun which left the Lightning alone in a separate set of linked slots on her bangle. “Ready then, sir.”

<<◊>>

“Forgot how much I _hated_ this shit. No class at all, flying.”

“Shut up, Legend.” Verdot took the pain to correct his suit, tucking his tie back into the jacket absently. “You _insisted_ on coming along.”

“…if what Sunshine said was _right,_ we left him here for years.”

“By _his_ choice, apparently.” He countered blandly, turning fully to the village woman giving them all a less than impressed glare for likely landing in her vegetable patch. “Forgive us, madam. We had reports of something shattering trees and breaking into the old Shin-Ra Manor, we are here to ensure nothing has made use of our old property to threaten the town and that the estate remains secured.”

She thought about it instead of getting flustered or excited at their likely unique arrival method to a sleepy mountain village such as Nibelheim. “Strife, sir. I’m Madam Strife. I understand you gentlemen are in a hurry, but my boy and I rely on the greens we grow here. You’re lucky it’s the middle of winter. Go, but do try to not land in anyone else’s kitchen garden.”

Legend looked down at the snow swallowing his white leather shoes, at the helicopter’s landing gear impacting deeper than the two of them were standing on top of, then back to the mountain lady. “You are, of course, _entirely_ right Madam Strife. Our only excuse will have to be it all looks the same from above when covered in snow.”

“Off with you.” Insisted the motherly Strife, entirely unimpressed. “There were several trees cracked through from what the menfolk said after investigating the gates of your property this morning, and some rather frightful sounds from the mansion itself echoing down the mountain a bit earlier.”

“Appreciated.” Verdot informed her with a brief nod, mildly amused at the little boy face pressed up against a window of the house behind her. “You may instruct the pilot of where else to land, as he seemed to have forgotten to look at the aerial survey maps to find a more suitable spot than your garden.”

The suggestion finally earned them the mountain woman’s forgiveness, and she gave the two of them a return nod before shifting the aim of her motherly disapproval to the Infantry pilot they had borrowed.

“…damn.” Drawled the older Turk quietly, taking a second to light up a cigarillo and allowing Verdot to overtake him to the gated and supposedly locked down property at the far end of the village that grew around it. “Fierce ladies out here.”

“Focus.”

“Don’t hear anything now.”

The Director of Turks pulled the heavy iron key to the gates out of his slack’s pocket, disgusted at the rusty sounds of an uncared-for lock turning and how much force was required to budge the large iron gates. “We can see the trees that have fallen.”

“You sent… one ‘Knife’ and a ‘Shotgun’, I take it those are the favored equipment of said Turks, right?” Legend inspected the first tree, then pointedly glanced at the next not fifteen paces away cut down in a similar if seemingly explosive fashion. “So… what did this?”

Verdot nudged the equally as ravaged limb of a gargoyle to the side instead of continuing to obstruct the gate’s movement to allow them both before closing it firmly and replacing the key back into his pocket. “I do not _deal_ in speculation or assumption, Legend. When we find the three of them, we’ll likely be _informed_.”

“Four.”

“…the _four_ of them, of course.”

“Sunshine’s done his usual ‘it’s locked, so I’m just going to take out the whole thing’ on the side door.”

“…I never did ask why he refused to pick locks when he knows not only how to make but _can_ use them.”

“He told me it was ‘disrespectful’ once.” Taunted the older Turk, stepping onto the solid metal door that once stood in the entrance they were using. “And of _course_ everyone knows to go for the hinges if something’s locked, the smarmy brat.”

Verdot considered that as they looked around the mansion to find the more probable way to go to find the two on mission Turks, a supposedly KIA Turk, and his best friend. “In a way, I can see Scarlet’s logic. He didn’t _unlock_ anything. He’s respecting the denial without actually respecting it.”

“Really _should’ve_ recruited the brat as a Turk. Even if he was a better blacksmith.” Legend nodded upwards, to a massive rent into the ceiling of the building centered over the staircase to the second floor that was venting his cigarillo smoke.

“He refused, repeatedly.”

“Me and _you_ , if Vincent had asked…”

“That, likely, was why Vincent never asked.”

“Yeah, well… he was always smarter than us. Is.”

There was battle damage on the second floor. The same reversed blowing out visited on any number of trees and monsters previously now in one wall, down the west-hand second floor hallway. Within the room was the corpse of a massive pile of red and purple skinned monster, of an unrecognizable species, and behind the monster an opened safe with a red materia left within.

“…is that Vincent’s Odin Summons Materia?”

“We will not know until someone tries to summon through it.” Verdot still carefully stepped over the puddles of blood and a few spent shotgun shell casings to secure it, suspecting it very well was his old partner’s summons. “Check the other room, then we’ll check down the other corridor.”

He also collected three of Knife’s shattered throwing knives for her, as Scarlet could melt them down and add a bit more full-metal to reforge them again. If they could hopefully restore the man’s sanity despite any deals he had going on with deities that took such a dire toll on him, that was.

There was _some_ red-human blood mixed in with the mako-tainted ocher blood of the odd monster, not enough for him to truly worry but enough for him to account for possible injuries in his immediate plans. He knew Knife had obtained a Restore Materia from their armory stash, though he did not know how this battle had played out.

“There’s a basement level.” Legend reentered the room and informed him of flatly, a sour grimace now on his features. “It connects to the Nibel Reactor, down the other hall. We’ll have to check there, if they’re not up here. It’s where the scientists did their freaky experimentation bullshit, everything above ground was personnel and living space. I _hate_ going down there.”

“No one is forcing you to be here, Legend.”

“How does _Sunshine_ know? That safe is the one the creepy git uses for keys and the like when there's a need of one or seven.”

“He apparently has a Goddess in his head, if She can give him nightmares every night then She could also inform him of just about anything.”

The older Turk huffed around his cigarillo, drawing on it more and more the further they got into the old Shin-Ra mansion.

Legend led him to another side room, on the east side of the mansion, where a seemingly hidden door in a wall was left open into a cobblestone-lined shaft leading downwards. Further than the building was built. There was a simple wooden walkway, ancient and as abandoned as everything else used to furnish the place when the Shin-Ra building had been built up enough to hold the company’s many workers more comfortably.

“I fucking _said no!”_

“He woke up _himself_ , sir! You _said!”_

Verdot exchanged a look with Legend, and the two of them bolted down the wooden stair/ramp combination heedless of the risk in narrow passages or a two-story drop right next to it. A small laboratory waited at the bottom of the shaft, mako glowing in various containers lining the walls with some bookcases and shelving for specimens or equally preserved parts and a large autopsy table in the middle.

Knife was standing in the doorway to a room which, from the glance they could gain over her shoulder, was full of coffins. Shotgun had both her hands up, far from her shotgun hooked breech-open over an elbow, and gestured to a long-haired man dressed in dark leathers with a red cloak over his shoulders that seemed to have come from that grim room. “Sir… _sirs,_ is this…?”

“Sorry man, I _told them_ not to wake you up.” Scarlet informed a living and upright ghost of a Turk apologetically, almost desperately as his grime-covered shoulders slumped. “I know you just wanted to sleep.”

“…I heard.” Vincent Valentine hoarsely accepted rather wryly for a dead man, flexing the claws of a golden prosthetic replacing more than half his left arm slowly as he glanced from Turk pair to Turk pair then to their very frazzled blacksmith almost twitching with either stress or strain. “I would like to know what’s going on, Scarlet. You are not supposed to be here.”


	18. Chapter 18

“You… you _bitch._ ”

“I got the riot act already, Sunshine. Friends do not let friends commit homicide unless all parties are completely sane. You get your one free punch… well, another one.”

Vincent raised an eyebrow at a significantly older aged Verdot, who merely inclined his head and answered for him. “Scarlet has suffered what appears to be a religiously-influenced psychotic break some time ago, due to some deal with an actual ‘Goddess’ before we met him that he’s been staving off for almost two decades now from all reports.”

“No. No, Verdot. I _let_ it break me,” this equally as aged if manically-inclined but still wild Scarlet insisted, giving up glaring murderously at Legend to desperately regard the man closer in age to him than the other two senior Turks, “because, see… I told Her to go fuck Herself. But She’s _fucking annoying_ , and then Vincent started, and they both made it… I _could’ve done it_ before that. Even still, but he _never stops_. I _get_ it, I _do_. He doesn’t want to be _awake_ , that’s _fine._ But _fuck_ , man. You never _shut up_ about it.”

“Scarlet… are you _hearing_ my nightmares?” It was the only sense he could make of his ramblings, and if his old friends seemed to believe in the backstory they supplied?

Then…

“Not. Not the _nightmares_. What you _keep saying_. They mention you, so I _check._ There’s only me and _Her_ now, the littlest Cetra girl is too young to talk that way and I _suck_ because it’s a _taught Cetra_ skill and I’m not Cetra enough so I can apparently only _listen_. Vincent, you either don’t listen or we can’t reach you. You’re probably terrifying the girl…” The grimy and visibly stressed blacksmith trailed off, then gave him a bewildered look with bruised blue eyes. “Man, what the _fuck?_ She’s just a _little girl_.”

The unsought for bit of normalcy in this abrupt ‘visitation’ was not appreciated, it seemed as if his actions were yet again causing someone unrepairable grief. Though, he was interested to note, Chaos was being oddly respectful of the whole situation by not howling in the back of his head and attempting to wrestle control away from him as per usual. “I will attempt to be quieter, Scarlet.”

“No, man. I _get it_. Given what she did, like… and you couldn’t really _do_ anything but stand and watch. That’s _behemoth shit_ , but. She saved your life. In the end, she realized it too. You hit the Lifestream with a _splash_ , then you weren’t there, then you started _howling_.”

Legend and Verdot exchanged a lost look between them, and the two young women who apparently were Scarlet’s mission partners for what aim had taken them past his coffin were resigned to the rambling causing them so much confusion.

Vincent regarded the gaunt echo of the blacksmith he knew once that apparently did know too much, as always, with concern. “How do you know that?”

“…she’s not _in there_. But she’s there. Miss swishy-swishy isn’t dead or alive, trapped in between by her own choice. No one can get her out… well _She_ might be able to, but no one can kill her there either. She’s… not as _bad_ , really. Soft, she’s not Cetra enough either for anything more. But _you?_ You’re _part of it_ now, and _She_ wants to use you too but can’t because you were never willing to be.”

“Crescent?” Legend suddenly demanded, as he was the one to nickname Professor Lucretia Crescent rather unfairly as ‘Miss swishy-swishy’. “Vincent, man… _nice._ But… _urg._ She married sick-fuck-supreme instead?”

“…are you sure you don’t have a kid?” Scarlet suddenly rambled on with, not quite _present_ anymore but slightly dazed to go with his twitching and exhausted features stained with hard travel and the gore of various monsters. “Because… he’s like _your_ carbon copy, down to your fucking eerie _smugness_ , and neither of them were anywhere _near_ that tall. He’s _still growing_. As a matter of fact… his hair texture is _yours_ , just silver.”

“Sephiroth is not my child, Scarlet. I checked.”

“Yeah… _but_ … he tinkered. Genetically, her green eyes and _silver_ hair somehow with _your_ personality when you’re not part of it? Who’s to say he didn’t overwrite that part just enough to ‘fuck with’ you under your own nose? No _way_ that greasy fuck is anything _but_ a stepfather, makes more sense for what he did to him…”

There was a somewhat lengthy pause as Vincent strove to control Chaos again who fed off his own anger… but there was no attempt to take over their body forthcoming. “… _what_ did _Hojo_ do to **_Lucretia’s child?_** _”_

“Didn’t treat him as a kid, treated him as a _science experiment._ And you _know_ that greasy fuck, Vincent. It wasn’t good. I’ve been trying to give him the abstract vocabulary, let him use me to hide behind when he just was too uncomfortable with too much new information or experiences he didn’t have the words to describe. He’s _smart_ , but… he just doesn’t know anywhere near what he _should_. All book learning, no experience. Muscled but _pale,_ like he rarely if ever saw the sun.”

“Fuck. You didn’t _tell me_ , man.” Legend defended himself in not little horror. “I didn’t _keep watch_ , I thought the brat _was_ that creepy fuck’s. I would’ve _killed him_ then or _let_ Sunshine do it _years_ ago. No fucking _wonder_ he keeps going after Hojo’s ass when out of his own mind.”

“…I what?” Scarlet asked weakly, even more bewildered to a comical degree at the news he had somehow _heard_ Vincent’s wish of a painful demise to his tormentor and attempted apparently multiple times to carry it out for him.

He was the one to install such loyalty to one another in the Turks, it should not pain him to realize it had continued without him. Even if two of them thought him dead, and only one had known he was not fully so.

Verdot made a gesture of some new coded hand signal to the two younger Turks keeping silent as the conversation went on, and the knife-fighter slid to the side to help a visibly exhausted and ammunition-less shotgun-specialists quietly leave the small laboratory while he spoke. “Scarlet, you _need_ to return to Midgar. The Reactors are disrupting _Her_ control on you. If you wish to remain refusing, you _need to return._ ”

“Yes… but. I _need_ to buy… two years? _Three_. I _need_ to buy another three years, then I can _fix it._ Maybe. Reeve’s going to be _pissed_ that _bitch_ is there, I can fix that _now_ and buy the time to keep on-” Scarlet twitched violently, then looked at his closest friend as if only now fully realizing he was standing in the room with them. “Verdot… _man,_ I don’t know how the _fuck_ you do it. You did everything _perfectly_ , somehow, while I was _fucking useless_. _Better than_ , actually. Didn’t remotely think there _was_ any way to get my sanity back… and I was fine with _that_ instead if I couldn’t. All would result the same, just about. More death, but if I was such a _useless fuck_ then that was just on me.”

“You put your faith in me, Scarlet. You have a plan?”

“A better one that _Hers_ , or what _will happen_ if nothing is done. She’d just _kill everything._ I can _fix it…_ but I need Her to go along with it to even have a _hope_. So I’m buying time… chess pieces. See… I’m a _rook_ , _he’s_ a _bishop_ , opposite ends of the board but we can’t really kill one another properly. The brats are _pawns._ We’re going to _steal the pawns_ out from under that alien fuck’s _nose_ and prevent the end of the fucking world _._ Rhapsodos and Hewley will be _easy_ , they’re more Her pawns being Cetra-attempts than the bitch’s so they’re easily swapped to _knights_ , but I maybe can _save Sephiroth_ too if we sneak him in. She’s _done it before_ , She can _do it again_ and then there’ll be _six of us_ against two _._ Maybe more… without relying on little Cetra flower girls to save us all and _die_ for it.”

Verdot considered the rambling explanation, then nodded slowly as he made sense of it more than Vincent or Legend could going by the raised eyebrows. “Children should be allowed to remain children, I agree. Scarlet, why in three years?”

“Let the kids have _this_ , let them _be_ friends and grow up to know themselves. I won’t be _able_ to do anything if Rhapsodos doesn’t _let me know_ … but they also won’t _understand_ until their Cetra influences starts fighting off the JENOVA infection in them when they ‘mature’. It’s why the Ancients weren’t able to fight the bitch instead of just seal her away, by the time they realized they too had been infected it was already _too late_.”

“Rhapsodos specifically?”

“He’s less Cetra than Hewley. Hewley knows the materia are _memories_ , maybe not consciously but enough to realize and respect it’s _not his_ and so he won’t use someone _else’s_ skills or magic when _he_ can do it just fine without. He’s _way_ too respectful, the brat, _they’re a gift_ and are _intended_ to be used that way. Rhapsodos’ skills with materia is of the same line of _knowing_ just enough to _know_ how to best use them, not as strong as Hewley but _still a Cetra_. Or enough of one to count. He can… he can use my Quadra better than _I_ can.” Another full-body twitch, almost more a momentary _seizure_ than a spasm of muscle groups, and Scarlet very nearly turned away from them before he forced himself to look back at the three Turks once again. “Verdot, man… I’m _not going_ to remember. I might never. If I _don’t_ , if I _can’t_ … you _idiots_ built a village _over the Emerald WEAPON._ But _under_ that primal monster, even further? That’s where _She_ is. The Lock. Take me, Vincent maybe if he wants to get fixed too, and the kids _there_ once Rhapsodos’ biology starts rebelling. I’ll remember eventually and handle the rest, She’ll let me have my mind to _explain_ to Her for fouling Her _presence_. _Use it_.”

“You will be able to explain yourself _better_ later, Scarlet.” Verdot pulled a heavy long-barreled revolver out of a holster underneath his suit jacket, equipping a familiar red materia into it and offering it to Vincent handle-first without watching to see if he would take it. “We haven’t yet activated all the Reactors planned for in Midgar, Reeve’s working as quickly as he can to get the rest ready ahead of schedule. If it takes strangling all the mako under Midgar at their full capacity, you _will be_ sane enough in time.”

He took the gun in his remaining flesh hand. Enough questions had been raised in this abrupt meeting that he _required_ answers to, nightmares and his own sins be _damned_. He could always remember her in his sleep, it did not matter where he got it, and to ‘save’ her child he would bestir himself.

Furthermore, his own personal demons were _colluding_. Chaos had stopped battering at his mind, the _rest_ were not disrupting that tentative ceasefire. There was something about Scarlet’s words or rambling that they _recognized and respected._

Vincent had never been religious before, not to the degree Scarlet was, perhaps he should start.

<<◊>>

“So… _that’s_ new.” Legend informed the other two idly as he stepped over the two halves of a black bat, gripping his explosives but as they were in tight confines he didn’t dare light one up to throw. “Could he _always_ do that?”

Scarlet swiped a hand again, an after-image of a spear ripping through a jersey and two mirages as if to showcase his question even if the brat failed to notice all the metal and glass shards being blown out in his face.

“I was not aware of such an ability.” Verdot informed him stuffily, shooting another yang half as Vincent sniped the ying waiting out just a little further. “Then again, I am only _just_ realizing the level of trouble Scarlet managed to find without us finding out.”

“So…” Vincent drawled rather hoarsely as he fed his revolver more bullets by using that ugly and out-of-date prosthetic claw hand to delicately pluck each cartridge up to feed into the barrel. “…nothing seems to have changed in the last thirteen or so years?”

“He’s a _master_ blacksmith now, doesn’t go around infuriating all the possible teachers that might have something to learn from.”

Their formerly presumed dead superior cocked his gun again and braced it on his metal arm to snipe out more monsters before their religious nutcase brought the whole cave system down on their heads. “Yet he still does?”

“Of _course_ he still does, Scarlet is _incapable_ of not doing it. The master blacksmith that oversaw his mastery was rather incensed by both his and his original master’s complete disregard for him.”

Legend snickered as they made rather good time down the passageway to the basement of the Nibel Reactor since nothing really was worth stopping to deal with. “You mean he _learned_ it from someone? Fuck, Sunshine… there’s _two_ of you?”

“Master Nova is… a female, very old, Scarlet.” Verdot allowed for tartly as they reached the end of the cavern part of the tunnel. “I’ve had to retain Reeve Tuesti’s assistance in keeping her occupied, rather cruelly I suspect. However much the two of them seem to appreciate his presence to at least _attempt_ to behave somewhat. He at least has not had _much_ thrown at him by her, unlike Scarlet. Tossed his own coffee right into his face, assaults him with her cane, just as _descriptive_ vocabulary as his.”

He _had_ to meet this old broad, just simply because he suspected it would be _hilarious_.

Another door got ‘removed’ due to being in Scarlet’s way, in whatever aim he was after to ‘buy time’ with. Was the actual side-door to the Reactor’s interior, so hopefully they could see what this ‘bitch’ the brat kept referring to was all about.

“What are you going to do if it turns out he’s just crazy?”

“What are you going to do if it turns out he’s actually defying a Goddess’ plan to have us all killed?”

“Fall on my knees in supplication and beg, of _course_. Man… thank _fuck_ it’s a _Goddess_ , even if She’s apparently a _bitch._ ” Legend insisted, wondering how this Goddess looked. Looks could solve a _lot_ of personal issues, at least short-term. “Shit, Sunshine… why the hell did you _sit on it_ for so many years?”

“Would we have believed him without actual proof?” Verdot punctured his somewhat annoyed feelings carelessly, holstering his pistol now they were somewhere there weren’t any monsters yet. “Scarlet was always very _keenly_ aware he was the only one of us that believed and kept his religious affiliation to himself until we asked him about it.”

Someone should really replace the doors their blacksmith kept voiding out from in front of them, just to keep the monsters out of here. Legend thought about it as they crossed the grating over the mako pools aiming for deeper into the facility, but he wasn’t really a ‘fixing’ guy. “You have the ‘proof’? Aside from the Reactors, I mean. It’s _weird,_ but you’re very _certain._ ”

“Banora was a village built over an Emerald WEAPON, Scarlet is right even if he shouldn’t know that as the retired operation is not widely known. Further down than the slumbering monster, there are effigies and inscriptions. Of a religious nature. The Science Department of Science and Research _insists_ what’s behind the ruins is a pre-Summons… as _Scarlet_ once did. Once. He claimed he didn’t believe that anymore, that he only _thought_ , before he bent off on a tangent of how the summons might have come to be summons as his mind deflected him away from the topic.”

“…kid must’ve walked _right into it._ ”

“As either a child or as a newly certified journeyman smith the first few days out on his own, indeed. Banora is only a day and a half _walk_ from Mideel.”

One _hell_ of a wakeup call, that. Then the tetchy Scarlet then _flatly refused_ a genuine Goddess to the face?

“When did that happen? Twelve? Eleven?”

“Twelve.” Verdot confirmed, being their ‘religious nutcase expert in all topics’. “If his meeting with ‘Her’ was not earlier.”

“A good two years or so before you two met him.” Well, they had always known Scarlet was way too stubborn for his own good.

Speaking of… their nutcase was inspecting the various tanks in this Reactor’s floor plan now, no longer mindlessly marching down a predetermined path not of his own making. “Sunshine?”

“We need either glass or metal. Nonporous. The bitch’s _infectious_.” Seemingly deciding on his options, Scarlet turned a few valves and nicked off the hinges using his weird vacuum-ability then _took off the head of what had been in the mako_ with another quick flashy impression of a spear tip before _it could orientate_ to what was going on _._ “Sorry, guy. Just need to borrow this…”

Verdot, Legend, and Vincent stared at the now headless humanoid-monster as their blacksmith unbolted the tank it had been stuffed within with so much glowing green liquid now spilling across the floor. Not _human-shaped_ , humanoid. As in… he kind of sort of recognized the guy as one of the more permanent guards he once worked with around here who had supposedly ‘quit’ some too many years ago. Just now a twisted monster mockery of himself, and now dead.

“…anyone want to go murder Hojo after this?” He inquired of his all but brothers curiously.

“Seconded.” Their formerly assumed dead fellow Turk agreed in a deadpan.

Verdot sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a long moment. “Very well, then. We’ll kill him and sort the rest of this out later.”

“More _your_ expertise than mine, rookie. I blow shit up.”

“I am a tracker,” Vincent immediately reminded them both a little too quickly, “and a sniper. I do not do paperwork. That was why we brought _you_ on, Verdot. You are our detective.”

“…I _loathe_ you both.”

“Love you too, man. Have fun with _that_ nightmare.” Legend agreed with no little relief, wondering just _what_ the blacksmith needed a tank for and exactly how much cigarillos were priced in little mountain towns.

There was a plaque on the wall over the doorway set up the stairs behind the ranks of tanks for whatever purpose they had aside containing monster-men, it read ‘JENOVA’.

<<◊>>

“Anything you fuckers want to ask you _better_ ask it now, before I kick this shit off.”

“I see what you mean by Reeve will be most upset, Scarlet. What _is_ it?”

Less obviously manic now, merely exhausted and drained, his best friend considered the question as they came to a stop within a mako-crystal encrusted inner cavern of the mountainside the Nibel Reactor was obviously tapping into. “Well. The idiots these days _thought_ she was a Cetra. Remember, I told you about Shiva and her great ice-natured magical work over the Great Glacier? Shiva froze JENOVA’s parasitic ass, it was the last thing the Cetra _could do_ as their civilization had completed their task and they were fading in both strength and numbers. They maintained a kind of watch on it for a couple centuries… but now there’s only a little girl-child left of their race and the magic is weakening. Unfortunately… Professor Gast found her and dug her out of the ice. Most of her. Hojo went back for the other half eventually.”

Given there was a blue-skinned female torso in the tank Scarlet had dragged out of the Reactor, down half a mountainside, and through several attempts by monsters to stop them… Verdot could easily see that it had once been frozen for ages and likely was JENOVA as far as Shin-Ra’s information could account for. “Shiva _was_ a Cetra.”

“Technically… JENOVA’s a Cetra too in a backwards ‘you are what you eat’ way. She’s a parasite, took the form of a humanoid by literally _eating_ the poor Cetra woman and subsuming her abilities and intelligence. Hence, a ‘she’ when her cells are more of an infection than a gendered creature. It’s how they only _belatedly_ noticed there had been something utterly alien in that meteor fall some years prior to that long ago crime, but the second JENOVA ate the woman who investigated her meteor impact site they _knew_ it was an abhorrent monstrosity not of their make.”

A logical, clearly stated, statement that conveyed the information without fits or starts. This act he was set upon doing was returning his sanity in an unknown, unmeasured method.

Highly likely, the moment Scarlet completed this self-imposed task he would drop into an exhausted sleep without any urgency or unknown ‘holy’ drive to complete behind him. They would need to either rent a few rooms in the local inn or immediately retreat to Midgar to preserve his mind as well as they could.

“Without that poor woman, JENOVA wasn’t really ever much of a threat.” Continued the blacksmith, more in a daze and with something to continue speaking rather than allow himself to feel the strain he had put himself through or than because the information might be needed by one of them before he forgot again. “It took _years_ for JENOVA to build up enough _mass_ alone to be any kind of concern, most of the ‘virus’ it was before got burnt off by the friction of the upper atmosphere, though that was just enough to lure a very concerned Ancient guardian for the northern ice cap to investigate the strange situation brewing with her flocks of monstrous ice dwelling creatures. I _think_ she was either Shiva’s best friend or her sister or something, maybe even her lover. That detail’s been long-since lost, though, all I know for sure is that they knew one another once upon a time.”

Legend knocked the back of his head against a cavern wall, disgusted by the story of a long-dead woman’s ‘murder’ and possibly how the Ice Magics Summons came to be. “What a _waste._ ”

Verdot glanced at Vincent to see if he had any inquiries or concerns in need of being addressed in this minor lull of less manic lucidity, but the man who only appeared half his real age merely shook his head.

“Scarlet, how do you know the story?”

“Shiva’s? I already told you that one, man.”

“No, this story of why JENOVA has a feminine humanoid form.”

“Oh… well, Minerva.” Scarlet frowned sourly, sagging somewhat alarmingly as he stalled out to try giving them what answers he could before it would be uncertain if he would recall anything. “It’s either Her or Ifalna. I get _everything_ JENOVA did or was thrown at me every damn night, it’s either Her way of convincing me to help Her kill everything or just to be a bitch since I’m not playing by Her rules and wants me to _remember_ it. Minerva’s not _human_ or _Cetra._ She doesn’t give two shits about ‘nice’, ‘nobility’, or ‘ask first fucking damn it’.”

That drew their superior out of his own thoughts again. “…Ifalna Gast?”

“Yeah, the ‘last’ Cetra. Now it’s her daughter, who’s only half but she’s still more Cetra than anyone else left. Speaking _of_ , the shit _she_ suffered through? Yeah, I get to _see and feel_ it. Hojo caught her, murdered her husband, and tortured her for kicks. Literally for kicks, he taunted the poor woman with her ‘inferior’ Cetra abilities whereas her daughter? _Phenomenally_ better even as a baby. That got added to the flavor of my nightmares… a couple years ago, sometime ago. Whichever.”

“I’m no longer sure who’s got the bigger stakes here.” Legend informed the other two Turks and the mildly confused blacksmith. “Do we flip a coin?”

“I know where Aerith Gast is.” Verdot informed Scarlet instead of addressing that. “Is she the ‘Cetra flower girl’ you do not wish to burden all this with?”

“Yeah, man. The girl’s what now, _twelve?_ She’s the Cetra race’s last great guardian. If I _fail_ , it’s going to have to be _her._ Dead or alive.”

“She will be twelve next month, Scarlet.”

The blacksmith grimaced, dissatisfied. “Fuck, I lost _so much_ time. You realize, I might not recall this at _all_ in a little bit? I’m not even going to _ask_ how you realized I’m being influenced by that bitchy Goddess, nor why you’re going along with this even if you’re just humoring me. The _moment_ we get this half of JENOVA to Her, She’s going to take another crack at convincing me that triggering the apocalypse is a good idea. The cracks are _me_ , man. Not Her. My mind _literally broke_ , I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

“Ten years is a little much to ask of any one man, Scarlet, much less something closer to _twenty_.” Verdot reminded the man somewhat grimly, reminded of his contribution to Scarlet’s stress though he was amused that he could _keep_ the secret for so long even when he was genuinely trying to help him understand what had happened. “How old were you?”

“…I don’t know… ten? Maybe eleven. _Just_ before Master Nova finally had enough of my bitchiness and told me to fuck off to learn from another master.”

Vindication, though in truth he really wished it wasn’t as he had suspected. “The ability, Scarlet? How are you killing the monsters and tearing metal apart?” 

“Cetra magics. I have _some_ , everyone does. The Cetra race didn’t _die_ out entirely, they _bred_ out. It’s what we now call ‘Limit Breaks’. No one, not _one_ of us, is _completely_ human. Mostly? Sure. Not completely. I’m so removed I can’t _use it_ without Her permission, and I only have it for this ‘once’. So… no worries. Once I’m just a crazy blacksmith again you won’t have to worry about me ripping things apart at will.”

“What about once _after?_ Past those three years you want to buy yourself?”

“I’m a _blackguard_. An ‘anti-paladin’, or a fallen knight. The _terms_ don’t matter much except the meaning I can convey. She’s not that kind of Goddess to care about holy, unholy, what’s right, or what’s wrong. She wanted a _weapon_ , one that won’t take so long or are too stupid to lock onto the problem when it’s hidden within the very creations She’s responsible for. I was _supposed to be_ that blade, but… I refused. If I ever was remotely ‘holy’ natured once? Not anymore. So now I’m the opposite of earth, gravity I think though it kind of looks more like a _vacuum_. Vorpal. The opposite of what _is_ , what _isn’t._ Because I am _resistant_. Defiant of the ‘natural’ order as She deems it.”

“You will excuse me if I _thank_ you for that.” Verdot informed him blandly, aware from what Scarlet had previously informed him of that the young blacksmith had in fact _gone_ to the very place he was certain would trigger that ‘apocalypse’. Long enough, or often enough, to describe the place to him as ‘nothing but a death trap filled with corpses’. “Is there anything else you _know of_ that we will need?”

The younger man considered the question, looking from first him to Legend quietly watching over them while barring any monster’s way to them through the caverns they had just come through to Vincent quietly watching everything. “Vincent… there’s a cave. Where Lucrecia and your dad found Chaos. Lucrecia’s _there_ , but she thinks there’s no hope for Sephiroth. Can’t die because of the JENOVA cells Hojo injected her with but can’t live with herself either for what she did under the influence of the bitch. She took your gun, by the way.”

“…I appreciate the information, Scarlet.”

“Verdot also, the fussy _asshole_ , stuffed the shit we gave you in a wooden box in my workbench. I tried to give it to Sephiroth, but… my mind kept breaking over it and how much he looks like you. You _might_ have to do that, or _someone_ … you know, not _brainless_ half the fucking time.”

“Should you not begin?”

“I can _try_ to see if She won’t fix you or give Lucretia back. Can’t _hurt,_ man.”

Vincent closed his eyes momentarily. “You do not owe me anything, Scarlet. However, I cannot stop you.”

“…anyone got a knife?” Scarlet inquired a bit wryly, eyeing the mako spring still exposed that was bubbling freely still even with a Reactor draining the mako in the area. “Cause… I don’t _really_ want to take off half my hand or a whole fingertip just to get this _done_.”

Legend held up a rather smaller explosive than his usual fair. “I can blow _up_ your hand, Sunshine.”

The unearthly _young_ -looking senior Turk regarded his golden if antique clawed prosthetic attached to his left arm. “I have claws, if you would like?”

Verdot pulled out one of the shattered points of Knife’s throwing knives and handed it to Scarlet. “You _both_ are idiots. Shut _up._ ”

The redhead, who might truly need a haircut to get the matter matted into it out of his hair sometime soon, cut into his palm with the shattered metal then squeezed the wound over the bubbling mako so his blood would drip into the glowing green liquid. “Oi, Your holy _fucking annoyance._ I’ve _got something_ for You.”

He blinked, then realized there _was_ a brighter glow growing in the crystals.

Vincent uncrossed his arms, startled into bracing himself for whatever reaction Scarlet caused.

Behind them, Legend softly _swore_ creatively as the light condensed down to a well-armored female figure in what could only be described as ‘holy raiment’ with _wings_ was either superimposed on the crystals or being reflected _from them_.

“ _Oi! Bitch! What the_ fuck _is_ that?” Scarlet snarled in Her face, pointing straight at Vincent’s startled form. “Clean up Your _fucking toys!”_


	19. Chapter 19

“…so, think I’m going to become a preacher.” Legend eventually broke the entirely too short mutual silence with, wiggling his eyebrows rather lewdly at the other two senior Turks over his sunglasses. “Because… _hot damn._ I can _totally_ get behind something that _perfectly murderous_ with _those_ perfect dimensions _._ I’ve seen the light and all that crazy shit, where do I sign up?”

“Shut up, Legend.” Verdot told him pointedly, switching all the Turks and their guests over to a private comm line in the sound blocking headsets because he knew his people. Even professionals required something to unwind with and if it was gossip at least they could keep it to _themselves_ not an unprepared Infantry pilot they were not yet completely sure of the character of.

Shotgun, refreshed from only a few hours of napping and a refill of ammunition from the supplies that came with borrowing the heavy copter from the Public Safety Department sniffed, still trying to untangle an unconscious Scarlet’s hair as well as she could. “I just _love_ happy endings.”

“He’s _still crazy_ , Shotgun.”

“Yeah, but Knife… the Director has _all_ his _friends_ back. Besides, Scarlet went crazy for _us_. To buy us time. All of us.” Apparently _also_ feeling a sudden surge of religious-typed fervor, she waggled the somewhat filthy and likely in need of replacement comb from her own personal supplies at her fellow Turks with a teary grin. “What else in the _Planet_ would even _do all this_ for people he would never meet, to stand up to a genuine _Her_ intent on our deaths and say _no?”_

“…dibs.” Knife claimed. “The _moment_ he’s no longer crazy, if he ever gets there.”

“You’ll have to get there before me, Knifey-Stabby.”

“I’ll show _you_ Knifey-Stabby, Shotty-Dotty.”

“Director, it’s been five hours. He’s _still_ asleep, there’s been no nightmares.” Abandoning the childish argument with her fellow Turk, Shotgun gestured to the man who they had laid down with his head in her lap to see what she could realistically save of his matted hair. “He hasn’t eaten near enough, all _week_. The only actual meal I could get him to eat was on the ship he stole, and he was the one to fish it out of the sea for us. Otherwise it was raw greens and whatever water I could get us without stopping for long and losing him. It shouldn’t be nearly enough for all this.”

“I will see the imbalance addressed once we are back in Midgar. I appreciate the information.”

Professor Lucretia Crescent stirred dazedly, enough of the conversation permeating through what was possibly mako-poisoning to draw her out of her own mind for a small frown at the safety implements she was strapped into confining her in someone else’s lap.

Unusual, given Vincent pulled her directly out of the mako springs after Scarlet _swore_ and _bitched_ and _insisted_ in his own Goddess’ face before maneuvering the partial JENOVA sample into the mako to be ‘purified’ in an eye-searing bolt of condensed holy energy. The effects should be _significantly_ worse than the woman was showing for being in contact with the toxic mako, but then again he had little data on what was the limitations of actual deity-level miracles.

His old partner pulled Lucretia back against his chest with his real arm, leaving the carefully closed claws of his prosthetic wrapped around her waist instead. “Perhaps I should become a missionary… more my kind of deity then the other ‘gods’ I have heard of. A nature Goddess, who will not care of murder and sins. Once, that is, Scarlet has solved this ‘little hitch’ in two or three years.”

Verdot roughly rubbed his face then the scar seaming his cheek, debating on the merits of allowing the whole organization of Turks to become religious fanatics. The _difficulties_ inherent in remaining the sole sane man left in such an organization, and being one of the few keeping in mind of the _price_ of defying the Goddess if She again thought that all living creatures would need to die in order to ‘contain’ an alien virus infecting Her creations. Without another crazily stubborn blacksmith deciding he had a better idea of what to do about the problem than She did.

Then again… “…Scarlet will be _pissed_. I’m writing the scriptures, let’s turn him into a _saint_.”

“There’s not going to be any _celibacy_ in our new religion, _right Director?”_

“I am a _married man_ , Knife.” He pointedly reminded both women looking entirely too contemplative of his answer, then jerked a thumb at the stupidly grinning Turk across the passenger’s compartment of the helicopter. “Besides which, _that_ is never going to be ‘pure of sin’ if I tried. It’s already going to require some careful wording to _excuse him_ at all.”

“Can we be holy assassins, then?”

“Why not holy hunters?” Shotgun countered, somehow succeeding with the self-appointed task of untangling the matted snarls in the long red hair spread out over her lap. “Who just so happens to assassinate things?”

“If what I suspect Scarlet’s plan _is_ what I assume, then the SOLIDERs will become our order of knightly divine hunters.” Verdot allowed for only a _touch_ wryly, but for the level of reaction he knew his best friend would not fail to deliver on the moment he realized what they were doing then he was perfectly content with this plan of action. “We will be the watchers, for both another such plan from Her and to acquire our knights their targets.”

Vincent was _highly_ amused across from him, red eyes occasionally rechecking on both of their not entirely coherent ‘guests’ in sequence every few seconds. Still looking strangely young for a man that somehow survived some thirteen years underground without losing an ounce of muscle mass, and being the only other of their number to receive a Goddess’ direct blessing for some reason Scarlet failed to clarify before passing out as expected. “I believe I know our first target, how… _divine_.”

Legend snickered beside him and his dazed lady professor. “Sunshine’s going to blow a _gasket_. I _love_ it.”

“We’ll tell him _after_ he fixes the situation, of course. Once it is too late, and he will not be able to derail anything.” Verdot offered the older men a vicious smile. “Serves him right for not informing us of his problems and attempting to hide this from us.”

* * *

…Scarlet woke up and stared up at the ceiling over his bedroom for a couple seconds.

Okay _, what?_

Feeling shockingly good after sleeping for however long, just _starving_ and achy, he rolled his carcass out of bed groggily. He wasn’t _shaking_ or _terrified_ for whatever reason, and it was seriously fucking with his head.

Bemused, he took in the raggedly coming apart braid his hair was in and the soft cotton pants he was _fairly sure_ he didn’t actually own. In his own house.

He _had_ been in a bar… right?

Fuck, he _hoped_ he hadn’t done anything _too_ embarrassing in the time he was somewhat sure he lost again. Verdot would _never_ let him live it down, able to remember it or not.

He was still punching Legend in the damn face. _No one_ used Scarlet for their own aims unless he said it was okay. Not that he _disagreed_ the greasy ‘Professor’ should die, but still. It was the _principle_ of the thing, the man could do his own damn dirty work. He didn’t need _his_ help.

First thing first, he needed _coffee_.

Staggering rather awkwardly towards his own kitchen, which was unfortunately down a staircase of all the _fucking_ things, Scarlet pulled himself up short when Master Nova was suddenly in his face. “By that _fucking_ Goddess, Master. What, _the fuck?”_

She whacked him in the ribs with her cane hard enough to leave behind a massive bruise. “Fucking shut your _mouth_ , kid. Next time you feel the need to take _leave_ of your damn good sense, do it on someone _else’s_ fucking time. I’m going back to Mideel. _Don’t be an idiot, asshole._ ”

“Fuck you, you crusty old hag.” She stabbed him in the foot with her cane, _on purpose_. “Fuck! Bitch!”

“ _Don’t_ forget it.” Master Nova sniffed at him, making _her_ own way down the stairs before he could work out the pain from her assault and shuffle even more awkwardly down them himself. “Good work, kid.”

She _also_ slammed his front door behind her, the damn magnificent ancient hag.

…it was still sweet of her to wait until he could probably maybe remember that she did say goodbye, rather than just fuck off on him.

Now _limping_ slightly and a wicked growing bruise on his ribcage, ancient and fragile looking or not she could still hit pretty damn hard, Scarlet made his way down the stairs only to pull up on the last damn step and blearily peer at everyone sitting around his living room in bewilderment. “What the fuck are all you assholes _doing_ in _my house?”_

“Shut up, Scarlet.” Verdot irritably demanded, handing Sephiroth a set of files over his coffee table. “I have the duty to ‘regretfully’ inform you that your stepfather seems to have been met with an… _accident_. The funeral will have to be a closed casket… there wasn’t much of him left recognizable. Or unmutated.”

“… _step_ father?” The silver-haired young man inquired as he took the paperwork, merely curious rather than upset or at all caring about the news.

Hewley looked _hilariously_ conflicted, either by Sephiroth’s complete non-reaction or by not really knowing the right response to say when a guy didn’t remotely care if their ‘legal guardian’ snuffed it.

Rhapsodos merely looked contemplatively bored, but only _looked_. Brat was plotting something.

“Couldn’t have happened to a worse greasy fuck.” Scarlet allowed for dryly as he reached the ground floor finally, because yeah that _really_ wasn’t something one should have to hear anywhere _but_ somewhere private so he guessed it was understandable why Verdot dragged the kids _here_ where there were Turks around just to keep the ghouls away from the silver brat specifically. “ _So_ sorry to hear that… how did it happen? For _posterity’_ s sake, of course. I might even order a plaque made or make it myself.”

“Scarlet, I believe I told you to _shut up_.”

“ _My_ house, fuck _you_.”

“Directors… my question?” Sephiroth interjected lightly, frowning thoughtfully at the _personnel_ files he was holding. “Additionally, may I inquire as to why I am holding Shin-Ra employee files instead of whatever paperwork I require to see to my ‘ _step_ father’s’ remains?”

Verdot held up a finger for the SOLDIER, turning to glare at Scarlet’s groggy ass. “Hojo suffered an _explosion_ to the face-“

“So… Legend got him?”

“ _And then_ , he was mysteriously rendered into bloody chunks and shot a few times when he survived that and somehow mutated. Mysteriously.”

“…so, _Vincent_ got him. Nice.”

“As all records of those few… hours, are missing from the recordings I must treat such assuming statements as conjecture rather than statements of fact.” The Director of General Affairs Auditing turned back to the three now rather surprised SOLDIERs sitting in Scarlet’s living room. “We did a little investigation when it came to light that Professor Hojo was merely Sephiroth’s stepfather. Your mother’s name is Lucretia Crescent, who _was_ married to your stepfather, she is recovering from over a decade of mako-poisoning remarkably quickly. Your _father’s_ name is Vincent Valentine, my old partner, who was declared ‘KIA’ some thirteen almost fourteen years ago as well… by ‘Professor’ Hojo. The files in your hands are what the company knows of both individuals, as they _are_ employees still and they _are_ alive against what has been reported to us. Not quite whole, either of them, but _alive._ Only one is reliably coherent at this time.”

“… _Professor_ Hojo insisted my mother’s name is Jenova, sir.”

“ _That_ frozen corpse?” Scarlet interjected again, rather surprised though he wasn’t quite sure why. “Kid, that thing’s been _dead_ for a _couple centuries_. Like _hell_ even the greasy _fuck_ could get that lump of dead flesh to create a child, defrosted or not. He might’ve tried a couple times the _old-fashioned_ way, though… he was _that_ creepy.”

“Scarlet!” Verdot snapped again, though Sephiroth was _vastly_ amused at his information and so his work here was done.

Rhapsodos looked mildly ill, and Hewley was _utterly_ uncomfortable now.

Bonus, he didn’t have to describe what the hell he was referring too because _someone_ apparently did in fact know enough about that slice of being a living creature already.

Shuffling off obligingly enough, because if _Legend_ was around he was pretty fucking sure the asshole stuffed beer into his fridge, he wandered off to get his coffee. Instead of standing there like a brain dead ghost while it brewed up for him, he grabbed five bottles from the door of his fridge to take back to the kids and his best friend stuck giving a ‘sympathy’ visit when he was pretty sure no one was remotely sorry about the news he had to give.

Verdot rolled his eyes but accepted a bottle. “If I had _known_ Director Scarlet would be awake, I wouldn’t have taken you here for this.”

“I do not mind.” Sephiroth insisted calmly, taking the beer handed to him curiously. “As we _are_ underaged, sir, I feel I must ask why you are handing us alcoholic beverages.”

“In _Midgar_ you’re underaged, sure. One drink a day or so is actually pretty good for your heart. _Also_ if you’re of age to murder things for a living then you’re of age to have _one_ drink, Mideel specific laws.” Scarlet left the other two on the coffee table he didn’t buy, as the other two could pick for themselves, dropping onto a couch he _also_ didn’t buy himself that Verdot was already drinking on. “Sorry to hear that, kid. I guess. Really _hated_ his guts, but I… no, actually I’m just going to drink to Vincent for finally removing that greasy stain off the Planet. Cheers.”

“Do you know my parents, Scarlet?” Inquired the SOLDIER curiously, eyeing the pale foamy substance warily after he pried off the cap as he and his best friend did on the side of the metal coffee table.

“You have her eyes, and like… ninety percent of everything else but your hair is entirely _him_.” Fortifying himself with a hefty swallow, Legend might be a complete _asshole_ but he had a pretty damn fine taste in beer, Scarlet gestured vaguely to the Turk also in his living room. “These guys once dragged me to a company New Years party, a _long_ while ago. No one else invited was of ‘appropriate’ suitability to talk to Rufus Shin-Ra… who was about seven-ish or something. Anyways. A guy called ‘the Legendary Turk’ pointed out Professor Crescent to me, and _exactly_ how much Vincent _mooned_ over her swishy-swishy hair. Like, guy’s a _bandersnatch_ of a tracker and a crack shot with practically everything that fires bullets _and_ the _original_ Turk you _do not_ ever want pissed with you… utterly _smitten_ over the lady professor’s every movement. It was _nauseatingly_ cute _._ ”

Scarlet glanced over to the strangely silent best friend next to him. He shrugged instead of saying anything or adding onto the pathetically short story himself.

“Still don’t know _what_ he saw in her, though admittedly I’m not her greatest fan.”

“It was Vincent’s choice, and really what else do we _need_ to know?” Verdot insisted mildly, though noticeably he _also_ didn’t say he was at all fond of Lucretia Crescent. “Still wish he _told us_ he and the lady professor had a relationship, Hojo would’ve suffered his ‘accident’ years ago instead.”

Hewley, though he had refused to even touch the bottle of beer where Sephiroth was two sips into trying to decide if he liked it or not and Rhapsodos was halfway through his, crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the two older men with somewhat strained respect. “Sirs, while I _understand_ and _appreciate_ why you had us returned for two weeks in the middle of deployment for this news… why _all three_ of us?”

“Sephiroth does not have anyone else, SOLDIER Hewley. And, while _suspected_ and not _proven_ it is _very likely_ this situation was of our own unintentional make.” The Turk of Turks pointed out blandly with a tip of his beer bottle. “While _technically_ it’s family members that are allowed a period of leave for tragedies in their immediate relations, with the situation as we found it I decided he could use support of an _actual_ use even if you’re all not related. Sephiroth, you are _legally emancipated_ upon becoming a SOLDIER and this remains true. This information _does not_ change your living situation, regardless of what the formerly un-mourned ‘Professor’ Hojo might wish or seemingly failed to inform you of. I merely thought to provide you with the opportunity to meet with them yourself and decide what if _any_ relationship you might want with either individual, with all available information at hand to make that choice.”

“…appreciated.” Sephiroth set the bottle down, either deciding he had better things to do or because he didn’t like the taste of beer, and cracked open the first file labeled ‘Crescent’ to look through it and the provided photograph of some significant age.

Scarlet drained his middle-of-the-day-not-breakfast beer, more interested in getting himself the whole pot of coffee that _probably_ had finished brewing up. “So… _why_ my place?”

Verdot pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “There is an in-depth review of the whole Science and Research Division, and _all_ the many sub-departments therein, ongoing since we found out their former Director _had_ covered up the disappearance of former employees. Not just Crescent and Vincent, _hundreds_ of employees and other related personnel that had been reported as ‘resigned’ or ‘deceased’. Most are not _quite_ as dead as reported, nor actually missing. With the reputation he’s earned himself and a high-profile death… there _is_ nowhere else within Midgar itself that would be both secure and _quiet_ enough to give Sephiroth the news personally before he heard from someone less…”

“…of an asshole?”

“Let’s go with that.” The Turk of Turks allowed wryly, holding up his also empty bottle for him to dispose of with his own. “If you _still_ feel like being fussy, I’d prefer a cup of coffee next. Equally as black as my heart.”

“Fuck _you,_ asshole… fine. One mug almost _white_ with coffee creamer coming up. Rhapsodos, you’re _not_ getting Hewley’s. _One_ I’ll overlook.”

The younger redhead scowled irritably, also handing over his empty bottle while putting the last one back on the coffee table. “ _The wandering soul knows no rest…_ the legal drinking age in the Mideel island chain is _fourteen_ , damn it, but very well. If you _insist_. I, Director Scarlet, am _much more_ interested in what you wrote Sephiroth while we were out in the field. If you _wouldn’t mind_ translating your messy illegible handwriting for us.”

“…I did what now?”

“You were a bit mindless at the time.” Verdot informed him simply while he waited with all the patience in the world for the SOLDIERs to have questions for him or to arrange for one or all the kids to meet the parents. “Reeve _insisted_ you write something to send them, for nearly three hours, until you _finally_ did. Most likely, just to get the man out of your way while you were in the middle of forging Rufus’ new shotgun’s double barrel.”

Scarlet shifted the empty bottles to one arm as the silver haired SOLDIER pulled out a single sheet of paper from an entirely _pathetic_ stack of them pulled from his armor, taking the letter he supposedly wrote while brain dead and spending five seconds translating all the letters into something he _could_ read. “…Verdot, man. I have a _phone_ , right?”

“It sees more use by Turks than you, but yes. Hallway, the wall opposite of your staircase.”

“I’ll be right back, kids. I need to go call a man really quick… what’s Reeve’s office number?”

His best friend rattled off a whole _list_ of numbers, and he confiscated Hewley’s untouched beer before Rhapsodos grabbed it anyways. The Turk of Turks _also_ raised a pointed eyebrow at the kid when the younger redhead merely shifted his attention to Sephiroth’s abandoned one.

Scarlet dumped the glass bottles on his kitchen table on his way past checking on his coffee, which was done brewing but he did really need to call Reeve first. It took only one more prompt for the number as he confused the last two digits but that was honestly surprisingly good for his busted as hell memory. “Reeve! Quick question, man. _Why_ did Sephiroth just hand me a list of _swear words_ in my own handwriting?”

He then quickly held out the phone, so the speakers weren’t aimed directly at him anymore.

“ _…SCARLET! I_ said _TO WRITE HIM SOMETHING **APPROPRIATE!** ”_

“Man, I don’t _do_ orders too well when I’m not altogether coherent. We’re lucky it’s just a list of swear words.” Setting the phone back again against his ear, he snickered at the spluttering going on down the line. “Hi, good morning and all that shit. I’m awake.”

“ _I can hear this, Scarlet. Good_ afternoon _, my friend._ ” Reeve practically groaned around a wry laugh, sounding both relieved and despairing of all the good sense he probably never had. “ _You only lost two weeks, and you were asleep for most of the second half! I figured it out, Scarlet. You’ll be better in no time._ ”

There _had been_ something to find?

Huh… news to him, but it _did_ explain why he woke up feeling groggy and hungry instead of terrified. “Awesome, man. Thanks. Hey, next time? Get Tanis to translate it so I don’t end up sending Sephiroth a sex ed guide or something.”

Hanging up on the Director of Urban Development’s next bout of horrified spluttering, still grinning, he went to get him and his best friend the coffee.

Verdot gave him a _supremely_ unimpressed look but took the ugly as sin mug his daughter ‘helped’ make to drink from. “Swear words, Scarlet?”

“Are you _surprised?”_ He inquired equally as deadpan as he gave Sephiroth the list of naughty terms in a horrible mishmash of symbols and letters from around the whole Planet again.

They _were_ the kid’s, he _personally_ wrote them for him. Might as well let him keep it.

“Shockingly… no. Not remotely. You _would_ see swear words as _appropriate_.”

Scarlet snorted, settling back down with his boiling hot coffee and bizarrely lethargic mood. He didn’t _remotely_ know what the bloody _fuck_ was going on, but then again he really didn’t _need_ to. Verdot knew as per usual, and that was perfectly fine with him.

He did wonder what had gotten Vincent out of the old Shin-Ra manor’s creepy crypts all of a sudden, and _how_ anyone got Lucretia Crescent out of the mako crystals she should’ve _never_ escaped… and why suddenly Hoko-hinky was _dead_. Seemed a bit weird to him, but then again weird wasn’t always _bad_.

A good weird, so… two good weird events now. Total, not just from what he could remember this time.

“That is _still_ an adorable ugly as sin mug.”

“I _will_ pour this out in your lap.”

He clutched his own coffee mug protectively. “You _heathen_ , you would _defile_ the sole saving grace of _coffee?”_

Verdot planted a hand over his face. “ _How_ are you a thing?”

* * *

There was a church under where Sector Five’s place was intended to cover. It wasn’t _Minerva’s_ , the place had been built for some other god real or imaginary and abandoned some time ago. As the villages that once made up the rather densely populated Midgar Area was swallowed whole by the massive city of steel being built over it, choking out the previous devout to about… nothing.

Scarlet had _never_ actually wandered his ass over there, or at least not _intentionally_.

Still hadn’t. He was being called here, the same way She normally used to try forcing him to bend to Her will but by a new voice he never heard in that echo-y mako-tainted way before. A _living_ voice, not the echoes of long-dead Cetra nor the thunderous _command_ of Her. A young lady, who asked very neatly if he wouldn’t mind meeting her somewhere real please.

As he still couldn’t figure out how to talk back that way, he went in person since she asked so nicely.

It was _possible_ , it’s how the PHS prototypes worked. They used mako instead of cell towers, somehow the Cetra could do it without the hardware… he’d figure it out later.

The now master blacksmith weapons maker lived a whole two Sectors away, there wasn’t much of a reason for him to visit a possibly Turk-infested church not dedicated to his own Goddess… bitch though She may be. However, he really didn’t have a lot else to do today and so he was taking an exceedingly long ‘lunch break’.

Pretty place, honestly. Still lit by sunshine and in the fresh air, though not for long as Shin-Ra started welding the plating down to create the Sector Five’s street level above it. It had already started, but the eternal shade had not reached the rather tall building with the stained-glass windows intended for nothing more than worship.

Surprisingly still in good repair, for an empty building and the neatly sectioned off grounds already withering as the mako of the area was drained away to sustain Reactor Number Five.

The interior was still as quietly hushed as high raftered vaulted ceilings made for, with only slightly rusty hinges on the main doors echoing into the darkened interior. Long rows of still polished if dusty pews lined up neatly facing an altar at the far end of the main hall, stained glass painting colorful shafts of what sunlight there was in a cloudy Midgar afternoon across the floors. At the heart of the building where a preacher might have once stood the floorboards had been pulled up to reveal the ground, and a whole riot of greenery and flowers peeked out of the earth shockingly untouched from the mako drain the rest of the lands around here were suffering through.

Scarlet stuffed his hands into his cargo pants’ pockets as he waited, mildly curious what flowers those were.

He didn’t really _do_ completely mundane plants, honestly. They existed, that was about as good as he got at identifying them. If it were a _monster_ plant it’d be a totally different matter, and he’d know what elemental magic effect they might give metal forged in the fire of their burning limbs or exactly what monster plant to quench a blade into to provide certain other effects pretty damn well.

…he was maybe a _mite_ bit over specialized, perhaps it was time to branch out a little.

“Scarlet!”

A little surprised, and still honestly trying to think of something he _could_ do when it was still pretty iffy if he’d even remember what he would bother to learn, he turned around only to get a young preteen girl’s forehead to the stomach. Rather _hard_. “…uh… Aerith? Princess? _Pretty_ sure you shouldn’t know who I am. Also not sure how you know I could _hear you_ , but eh.”

Alarmingly, the girl _sobbed_ into his stomach while winding boney arms around his waist to hang on for what appeared to be dear life.

Utterly confused and rather bewildered at this whole meeting _she_ arranged herself, not _She_ but _her_ which _really_ cleared absolutely _nothing up_ , Scarlet reached behind his head and pulled on his new if still _lopsided_ braid that contained his hair for him instead of do anything that might make her even more upset. “Princess, can I ask… ah, _shit_. You _weren’t_ supposed to know…”

Mako, Lifestream, _liquid memory_. Scarlet had mako inside of him, Aerith had mako inside of her. One of them was a much better Cetra than the other. Spoiler alert, it wasn’t him.

The _moment_ he was stupid enough to end up face-to-face with Minerva, the _Goddess_ knew what would happen in **_Final Fantasy VII_** _’s_ multiple storylines by touching the mako inside of Scarlet to see what the hell he even wanted in front of Her. Which meant _all the Cetra_ had known too, mostly all dead or not.

 _Knew_ , that since _he_ wasn’t a _she_ , there was no guarantee that it would work out the exact same way either.

Ifalna eventually _did_ check in with Minerva and the dead remnants of the Ancients still lingering in the Lifestream after Scarlet accidentally spilled the beans, but knowing what was to come and somehow managing a baby at the same time when she had been captured already and her husband murdered in front of her?

Ifalna eventually resolved to trust him for whatever insane reason and did her part of the story exactly as little he knew it, without tipping off Hojo no matter the torture she suffered.

Okay… so, _Minerva_ wasn’t mortal and didn’t have purely human/Cetra concerns. Things died, things lived, the Goddess didn’t _care_ what form it all was in so long as it did as nature dictated them to do. Killing everything immediately and sorting it out afterwards was not _honestly_ a bad idea, rendering JENOVA unable to really do any further damage and letting the Planet heal from the scars of mako Reactor use for a little while. She always _could_ resurrect the Cetra race again, to spread Her life to all corners of the Planet again once things were sorted out… if that stopped the alien virus at all in the first place.

Scarlet was just… a bit of a stubborn asshole when told he had to murder _everything_ so go off and start the apocalypse now. There _were good people_ here, who didn’t deserve that execution for no fault of their own.

Awkwardly, he patted the girl he robbed of her own miserable demise on the head as she cried out the horrors of a future that never will be on him. “Come on, Princess. It’s all done but the cleanup and the guys will ensure I finish that too. Except… Geo-stigma and the Reactors, but you’ll have an easy time of it in about a few decades. Probably. I’ll work on that. You’re _free_ , without needing to lift a dainty finger. You can be whatever the fuck you want to be, Cetra or a simple flower girl.”

Aerith hiccupped, pulling away slightly to dash the tears out of her eyes. “What about the others?”

“I’ve already got Barrett’s back, Cid’s going to be fucking _fine_ once I tell Reeve about satellites and global positioning software. Vincent’s pretty happy… I _think_. Kind of hard to tell. Let’s just go with _awake by choice_ and leave it at that. Red’s not going to be pulled away from his grandpa now. Tifa and Cloud? Might stay in their mountain, might make it to Midgar. I’ll keep an eye out. Reeve’s still _building_ Cait Sith, think he intends to stick the baby AI on my ass like I can’t take care of it myself. Yuffie might _still_ end up a bratty little ninja, we’ll just have to see. Don’t think she’s born yet. Will the gang ever get back together again, Princess? Don’t know, you’ll have to tell me.”

“I _asked_ Her, Scarlet. I didn’t understand why She suddenly changed her mind, to decide that maybe your plan might do for Her needs as you got Her _so much_ progress, or why Chaos… Vincent? Stopped his terrifying howls.” She grinned up at him now, still teary eyed and looking absolutely _mischievous_ as well as breathtakingly fond of a man she never met before this. “Or should I call you Matthew?”

“…I’ve been ‘Scarlet’ for longer than I care to remember but either you want to use is fine with me, Princess.” Fuck… he even _forgot_ his own original name. Great. At least _someone_ remembered it for him. “It wouldn’t have been _that_ bad. I’m obviously not a chick, or a sociopath. Every little bit, yeah?”

Giggling hiccups now, Aerith took in a couple very pointed breaths to even out her twitching diaphragm as she cleaned her face off on her own sleeves one final time. “Every little bit. So… is Zack cute?”

“Oh come _on_ , Princess! You don’t _ask a guy_ if _another guy_ is cute. _Not_ okay.”

Finally letting him go, with a nice big wet spot all over the front of his tank top, the girl flashed him an impish smile as she whirled to probably leave. “But _uncle_ Scarlet, what if he’s _mean_ to me?”

“I’ll stab him with my spear a few hundred times, _might_ make it through his thick skull.” Mildly disgruntled with how this whole ‘ambush’ was pulled off that he’d probably never have and wouldn’t develop a defense against _and_ by the very idea that just came out of her mouth, he gave the young Cetra a pointed look. “He made it into the SOLIDER program _just_ before we very _unfortunately_ put a rather permanent stop to the whole thing. Zack’s _in_ Midgar, Princess. Still a SOLDIER, though me and Her will fix that little detail in a couple years.”

Aerith nodded simply, now standing a more respectable distance from a man she technically shouldn’t know as well as she did with a still fond smile for him. “If it happens, then it happens. If not… well, I now have my _whole life_. I’ll find something, so don’t worry so… _my_ sword and shield. _My_ knight.”

Scarlet held up a finger to shush her with a wink. “Let’s just keep that between us, Princess. Rather _wouldn’t_ like to make Her jealous, She’s annoying enough as it is.”

The rather blasphemous confession in a ‘holy’ place earned him a happy giggle.


	20. Chapter 20

**εγλ 1997 – May 16th**

Scarlet was _honestly_ not really paying a whole lot of attention to the executive meeting even if he _knew_ he really should. It was _still_ his _job_ , and quite frankly there were only a few decent people on it to ensure nothing nasty got through to hurt more people.

His mind was _better_ now, don’t get him wrong, but there were still foggy spots and strange hitches in his brain as he _healed_ from nearly ten years of it breaking over and over again constantly.

As he informed Veld, Vincent, and Legend?

The cracks in it were completely him rather than something that could be healed up with the snap of a finger.

Even if it was a snap of Her fingers.

He _might not_ have yet told his best friend or the other two senior Turks suddenly back in the company that he could somewhat fuzzily remember more and more, because it was really probable he’d never get all of it back… but enough would remain. There would always be _years_ missing no matter what he tried to do, as he just _didn’t_ have any memories of being ‘catatonic’ or what happened in those times.

Except for that bit where She let go of his mind, he very _clearly_ remembered the trip through Shin-Ra mansion with two lady Turks as his mind slowly slid back into place then explaining to the guys just what the fuckery was going on with him. That he did in fact show them that Minerva existed, where he bought himself his three more years and got Chaos and Omega to _shut the fuck up_ by fixing the poor connection Vincent had to the primal force beasts so he could control them better.

Three years without the strain or nightmares to break him worse as She decided to wait and see what his plan was all about since he _had_ gotten Her tangible results.

Hopefully… he didn’t give anyone existential crises from doing it. It was _really fucked up_ the Goddess of _nature and life_ had planned to kill everything to ‘save it’.

Some things he just _really_ didn’t want to strain himself to explain in what he _could_ remember when he was missing the subsequent next whole _four months_ or _longer_. Equally as hopefully the fact he really did go ‘crazy’ for about a good ten years was good enough of an explanation for him, because a lot of it he couldn’t remotely piece together again even knowing what he did now.

Some days he still didn’t really _know_ what was going on, some days he could remember almost clear back to leaving Mideel the _first_ time. When he went for Quadra like an idiot, not Minerva like an even _stupider_ idiot.

He just had to take each day at a time and attempt to do better than the day before, there was nothing else for it to be done.

Scarlet was doodling circuitry designs for a much better personal music device on his ‘note taking’ papers provided to them all, an MP3 player in another existence, with a mako-circuit battery redesign and probably less capacity for now when Reeve suddenly shot to his feet and _shouted._ “You _can’t_ **_firebomb_** _Kalm_ , President Shin-Ra!”

“Of _course_ I can!” Boasted the fat shitty old man equally as loudly around the fourth cigar he was chomping on this single meeting, glowering nastily down the table at his not remotely cowed head of Urban Development.

“…well, _yes_ we have the capacity and ammunition to _do it._ But. _We do_ **not** _have the right!”_

 _“Gya haa haa haa!”_ Heidegger fucking _brayed_ like the oversized jackass he was down the meeting room even further because he was _that_ loud, slamming a meaty fist into the table and making everything on it _jump_ … including a specific master blacksmith’s _fucking pen_. “Yes we _do_ , Tuesti! We fucking _own_ Kalm, the shitty little pit that it is! We’ll just say it’s a _radar_ malfunction!”

“I… _beg your **FUCKING PARDON?** ”_ He _roared_ back at the shit, shooting to his feet too and slamming the damn pen flat against the table since the delicate diagram was _ruined_ now with the ink streaking through all the resistor calculations that took him a couple hours. “Fuck _you_ , you _crossbreed_ of a fucking retarded _bahba velamyu_ and a shitty whore of a _jayjujayme!_ You want a fucking _jackass_ to take the fall for your behemoth shit? Do it _your own fucking self, asshole!”_

Veld, right next to him now instead of exactly one chair away, arched _both_ eyebrows as probably the only other man in the room that knew what either somewhat exotic to the Midgar Area monsters looked like. One was basically a tapeworm/face hugger on steroids and the other an oversized caterpillar in order of reference… which _really did_ rather describe the nasty old warhorse well.

Did donkeys still exist, and were they called the same thing?

…whoops.

“ _Anyway,_ ” he strove to continue in a less strident or infuriated tone, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest since they seemed to be standing to voice objections or shit, “we _can_ , but as Direction Tuesti said… we _can’t._ It’s not just _owning_ a good deal of the property and employing a good chunk of the township. That’s about a quarter of our manufacturing power, the only _mythril_ mine on this continent, a significant portion of our own long-distance employees who keep homes there, and _their_ relations or contacts that’ll investigate what the hell happened if we actually blow up a town. Eventually, somehow, the people are going to _know_ what we did no matter what shitty fucking excuse higgy-piggy down there thinks will excuse his very existence. Then there’ll be a schism _inside_ the company, not just _outside_ of it.”

Thinking about it, Scarlet tilted his head to the side and gave Veld a sideway searching stare.

“Uh… man? _Why_ are we talking about firebombing our closest neighbor?”

President Shin-Ra snorted in disgust, giving not only him but Reeve a couple dark looks each. “Because, _Director Scarlet_ , there’s been a leak. Of _company_ secrets, as you would know if you were _paying attention_.”

“…okay, one? Who the _fuck_ cares? That’s why we have _his_ department,” indicating his less than impressed best friend’s entire still seated person, the master blacksmith reached behind his head and yanked on his braid to try and use the sting to wake his brain up a bit more, “and _secondly?_ We _murder_ a bunch of innocent kids and old people and the people will get even _more_ rowdy about the company’s stinking behemoth shit. We’d just make _more_ leaks doing that.”

“Calm _down,_ gentlemen.” Simpered Palmer down the table practically at the _foot_ of it, nervously stirring his overly saturated and nauseating concoction he called ‘tea’ from the tray he had brought to every executive board meeting. “I am _certain_ we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement, can’t we?”

“Shut _up_ , palm-frond.” Scarlet dismissed with audible disgust. “Reeve, how many of those miners does your Division talk with?”

“I know _most_ of the operators they’ve got by now,” easily confessed the younger man also still on his feet, wringing his hands slightly as the enormity of what they were actually fucking doing finally permeated his mind past the outrage, “your Master Nova introduced me the same way you did for most the better iron and coal mines.”

“…huh, I should write her a letter thanking her for that.”

“What? But… but _Scarlet_ , she can’t _read!”_

“So? She’ll just toss it in the forge and go on with her damn day, I’ve _checked_.” He glanced from the shitty old man still regarding him darkly to the rather purple-faced head of Public Security, then slit a heated glare at the sallow-faced mere _head_ of the Space Program pretending he was also an executive. “I’ve got most of the manufacturing guys, between the mine and the factories that’s more than a good half if not more of the entire damn town. Let’s see what we can find about this ‘leak’.”

Heidegger slammed both meaty hands into the table at his spot as he got up now too, rattling the damn massive thing enough that Palmer’s various china pots tipped spilling vicious liquids all over his stupid tea tray. “Listen here you little _CUNT!_ I-“

“ _Real_ creative there, hodge-podge. Is someone writing you _lines?_ You should really _fire them._ ”

“Maybe we should get you a _dress_ to go with your pretty hair there, _Scarlet_. Pretty girly name for a _blacksmith._ ”

He eyed the ruddy complexion on the man’s face with amusement. “I’d probably pull it off better than _you_ can, you over-fed _fuck._ Cocktail, if you’re taking requests. And yes I know I’m _pretty_ , as least _I_ can keep my _girlish figure_.”

Reeve spluttered on an aghast laugh, inevitably choked on it, and practically fell _over_ backwards into his abandoned chair trying to stop himself from giggling.

“I will take note of your request.” Veld finally spoke up, completely bland.

Which meant yes, he _would_ be getting a cocktail dress. In his exact size.

Terrific.

“Don’t forget the heels, man. Can’t pull it off properly without them. Thankfully, I _do_ have the hair.”

“As _amusing_ as all this is…” Thundered President Shin-Ra venomously around what appeared to be a _fifth_ cigar this same evening, rising to his own damn feet at the head of the meeting table even if he utterly _failed_ to tower his head of Weapons Development’s own lanky frame. “…I _believe_ I have _already_ given the order. Heidegger, let’s _go with_ a radar malfunction.”

Scarlet held out a demanding hand to Veld, who gave him a raised eyebrow instead.

“Give it to the man and _shut him up,_ Verdot.” Grumbled the shitty-old man nastily, straightening out the lapels of his business wear as he struck what he probably _thought_ was a lordly or proud stance. “Then-“

“Mister President… that _does not mean_ what I believe-“

“Are you _refusing_ my orders, Turk?”

The Turk of Turks regarded him for two seconds, as if utterly unable to comprehend the level of shit the old man was asking for. Then he did pull his sidearm from under his own suit jacket, checked it for ammunition and probably just to strike utter terror in everyone else at the meeting, then clicked the magazine back into the pistol and handed it grip-first in Scarlet’s still outstretched hand.

He cocked it and aimed straight at the now _significantly less_ belligerent old man Shin-Ra’s head. “Let me make _two things_ perfectly clear, you miserable waste of flesh. I am a _fucking master blacksmith_ , I have _options_ to make your life either shorter or even more _fucking miserable._ You even _attempt_ something like this again, I _will rip_ your company in _half_ by taking every damn individual in my Division out of this cesspool. Let’s see how well Shin-Ra wages war _without_ the whole Advanced Weapons Development Division. More than _most_ of the workers will fucking follow me once I tell them all why I’d do that. Secondly? _Two of your own fucking executives_ says it’s a damn _fucking stupid_ idea, _it’s a fucking **retarded** idea_. You _ever_ think of something this _utterly abhorrent_ again… I’ll fucking _kill you_ and install your own _son_ as President instead to give a less _fucking retarded_ order. Got it!”

Jumping when his own head weapons maker barked at him, the fat old man nervously jittered his eyes from the barrel of the gun pointing at his head to the man holding it. “If you do not _put that down_ , Scarlet… I will overlook your little rebellion. Obviously the stress isn’t very good for you… just put the gun down and I’ll ensure _someone else_ will attend these meetings for you.”

“…Verdot? I still owe Rufus another birthday present, don’t I?”

The Turk of Turks puzzled over the question, making a show of thoughtfully stroking his neatly short facial hair. “I believe you still do, Scarlet. Yes.”

Scarlet shot the President of the Shin-Ra Electric Company and its many Divisions through the head, giving his best friend back his gun as the bloody corpse missing half his head slumped over to the marble floors with a thump. “Sit the fuck down, hurdy-gurdy. Or _you’re **next**_.”

The beefy older man very slowly did as the head of the General Affairs Auditing Division pulled out a significantly newer prototype model of the hand-held mobile phones and dialed before holding it up to his ear. “…Vincent? Please send a cleaning crew specializing in body removal up to the Executive Meeting Room, and please send Legend off to Junon to pick up Rufus… we seem to need a new President. Imagine that _._ ”

Palmer very slowly sank under the thick polished wood of the meeting table, until the miserable elderly man was cowering under it entirely.

“Ah no, I believe Scarlet had another ‘episode’ and very unfortunately killed the former President…”

Reeve _attempted_ to look very disproving at Scarlet, and he honestly was in the face of a murder so he’d get the guy a case of beer or something for scaring the piss out of him… but to be frank the head of Urban Development was entirely too shaken by the whole evening and probably by how much death they just narrowly prevented with just one to really muster up much beyond that.

“Yes, very sad. I did warn the President, but he arranged for our blacksmith to be armed in the middle of an argument himself. Assisted suicide, I believe we’ll rule it. Terrible business, of course…”

Heidegger was _very pointedly_ not glancing even _once_ down the meeting room or at the blood-splattered ‘head’ chair or the murderous blacksmith at the same end, paper white under his bristly facial hair and very obviously clenching and unclenching his teeth from how hard his jaw was working.

“That will be appreciated. Thank you.” Veld clicked the ‘end call’ button and tucked the PHS back into his suit jacket. “Well then, gentlemen. We still have a leak to deal with until Rufus Shin-Ra is flown in to take over the company.”

“Again, _more_ your department than ours man.” Scarlet allowed for tartly, dropping back into his seat and taking another look at the very ruined diagram that would take maybe an _entire_ hour to fix before he continued where he left off. “My factory guys and Reeve’s connections with the miners are _still_ the best way to maybe get an idea of who it is.”

“I believe I will see to it personally, to ensure minimal disruption to our operations there.” Claimed his best friend pleasantly, probably intending to spend more than a couple days with his wife and daughter consistently for a good week while he only _maybe_ did the investigation. “Any further concerns to be addressed, Directors?”

Aside from the blacksmith’s continued scribbling, there was utter silence in the Executive Board Meeting room.

“Very well, you are all dismissed.”

* * *

**εγλ 1997 – June 3rd**

“… _why_ my house?”

“You are still the only one of us that has a permanent address and personal property _within_ Midgar.” Veld reminded him pointedly, idly peeling the label off his beer rather than drink it.

Rufus slammed the bottle of his _third_ beer on Scarlet’s kitchen table viciously, not caring the thick glass bottom shattered and left little glass shards everywhere. “I have _two_ brothers. _Two_ … that we _know of_.”

The blacksmith blinked at the young man who was probably only just informed of such news, then fetched his ‘boss’ another beer out of the fridge. “Shit man, that sucks.”

He earned himself an _ugly_ look, probably because the Shin-Ra brat was _still pissed_ he got his father before he could. The younger man still took the beer, swiping it out of his hands angrily and popping the top off on the side of the table like a Turk probably taught him.

“Bitch, those are _mine!”_ Legend swore at him from the living room over the noise from the nightly Shin-Ra news report he was heckling, just to be an asshole, and doing his job in ensuring the news coincided with what the Turks preferred. “Stop just _handing them out_ , Sunshine!”

“Stop leaving them in my fucking fridge, then! My house, _my shit!”_

“Charming.” Veld drawled simply, somehow getting the whole label off the bottle in one whole piece. “Rufus, I have been enabling anti Shin-Ra resistance as instructed… although admittedly with the situation as it is, containing the issues to be bothersome without being damaging is a stalemate I do not foresee lasting much longer.”

“I _was_ going to take charge of it _personally_ to condense the issue down for you, Verdot… _someone_ got fucking _impatient_.”

“You _also_ now only have three years to take your best shot at convincing me to stay.” Scarlet reminded the younger man, sitting back down now they all had the correct beverage for this kind of talk in hand.

“Are you _now_ going to tell me the point of all those ‘lessons without a grading curve’ to them?” Rufus bitterly asked as he carefully swept the glass shards to the floor carelessly with one well-padded arm even if it stained his white suit jacket with beer, very obviously plotting away at high-speed at his own table about how best to trap him willingly in place.

“As we’ve seen with your shitty old man, you _can_ rule by fear and probably get away with it for either your whole life or until someone gets lucky.” He admitted to bluntly, utterly unsurprised the Turk-raised new President Shin-Ra had cottoned on probably some _years_ ago when he had been completely out of his own mind. “But. People are… well, you _try_ to tell them not to do something but idiots are _still going to_. Either as a ‘fuck you’ or because they want the result you obviously don’t. However, fear begets resistance and resistance _fighters_ which all turns into something like a ‘bloody revolution’. I _like_ you, kid. I won’t kill you, just quit if I must. I’m _not_ the kind of man to simply stand by and enable it, though.”

Veld snorted bitterly next to him, probably reminded of exactly how far Scarlet’s _unwillingness_ could stretch.

Rufus eyed them both in sequence, taking a less angry gulp from his beer before setting it to one side like a smart young man. “I ‘ _also_ ’ have three years? My, Scarlet… just _who else_ did you give that ultimatum to?”

“A legitimate fucking _Goddess_.” Legend announced cheerfully from the hallway, wandering his ass in for the conversation since either the news reports were done or because he also wanted a beer. “Kid you _not,_ Rufus boy. That’s why Sunshine’s mind cracked, he’d been telling her to fuck Her _glorious_ self for… how long?”

“It hadn’t been _bad_ until fucking _Vincent_ started howling all those bitter recriminations and orders through the Lifestream. On the totem pole, _Chaos_ is a hell of a lot higher than I am in the hierarchy. _I’m_ just a mortal man.” He defended himself sourly, rubbing his face to not see Veld confirm it all for poor Rufus. “I’m what, thirty now? Nineteen years, six or something on my own before deciding to let myself go crazy was a much better alternative than listening to that shit _every fucking day_.”

“…well _shit._ ” Swore his new boss tiredly. “What _else_ can go wrong?”

“She wanted to kick off the apocalypse, using me. Might still if we can’t muster up the right appeasement.” Scarlet admitted as he looked the white-blond man in the eye. “Rufus… this is _probably_ as good as I’ll ever get now. I will _always_ have gaping holes in my memories and my mind will probably never stop wandering occasionally, I can’t promise I won’t ever break again, and a bitch of a Goddess trying to give me orders or not… I am a stubborn, asshole of a blacksmith. If I think it’s wrong, not even _She_ can get my ass to budge on anything.”

“I’ve _noticed._ ” Rufus informed the entire room with a dry drawl. “…a _Goddess._ Really?”

“Shockingly, yes.” Veld the _utter stick in the mud_ and probably the greatest skeptic on the Planet confirmed for him simply, as if the news should not be shocking. “Though that issue has been contained for a short while and will only need solving with some time and possibly a small amount of effort now.”

“I kind of don’t… _fully_ recall that whole. Uh… week?” He admitted sheepishly, much to his best friend’s complete _unsurprise_. “I remember enough to get the general _idea_ I passed on to you guys, and yes I did manage to ‘fix’ a few things. Apparently. But not much more than that.”

This was the point his new boss gave up, burying his whole face in both hands only to get apathetic sympathy pats on the shoulder as the explosive expert senior Turk wandered off with the last beer from the fridge.

“You trusted me with the details, Scarlet. I can enable you to save us from a genocidal Goddess easily with the information I now have.”

Rufus suddenly looked up from his hands, with a twitching left eye. “ _WHAT?”_

“Minerva, the Goddess, isn’t _mortal._ She’s got the excuse that death happens in Her sphere of influence to not be bothered if it all happens at once when She can reseed the Planet with Her life if She chooses.” Scarlet pointed out for him pleasantly with a grin and a tip of his beer bottle. “Kill it all and sort it out later… sound _familiar?_ Sucks to be on the other side of it, doesn’t it?”

* * *

**εγλ 1998 – April 13th**

Rhapsodos went _straight_ past his desk without even a word spared to greet him, aiming for the new Cetra translation report one of Scarlet’s old archeologist contacts sent along about the Banora cavern system’s various carvings. Ordered once Rufus had been fully informed of everything about Scarlet’s situation with how it pertained to all existence hopefully continuing and deemed it something that was very much needed. He offered a couple trustworthy names for Veld to use if they still lived, and the one his best friend picked had indeed lived and sent him a copy in thanks.

Not that anything would really _explain_ a murderous Goddess he was staving off by sheer luck and the grace of knowing a few things, but props for the effort… probably.

“And this,” Hewley insisted brightly to the groggy master blacksmith’s face trying to do his damn paperwork, gesturing to a spiky-haired shadow almost bouncing on his toes still lingering in his office doorway, “is Zackary Fair, Director Scarlet. I’ve been teaching him and he’s coming along very nicely.”

The brash Third-Class SOLDIER from the looks of his uniform, the _last_ SOLDIER, saluted him far too enthusiastically for this early in the morning. “Nice to meet you, Director Scarlet! Man, I didn’t know Angeal and the others had their own personal blacksmith!”

Scarlet sipped his lukewarm black coffee, _utterly unimpressed_. “I am the _Turks_ ’ personal weapons maker. Otherwise… the brats never fucking _stopped_ being little shits and annoying the piss out of me when they have the time.”

“ _And_ you’re a fucking _lunatic,_ Scarlet.” The still slim and willowy redheaded SOLDIER tossed dismissively over a shoulder as he cracked open the leather-bound volume. The one he taunted the brat about in one of the infrequent letter exchanges as he tried to keep up with all three of them via Reeve, when they were half the world away fighting a rather useless war.

Old-man Shin-Ra started it, so Rufus kind of had to finish it or lose a lot of respect as a barely-twenty something President. Even if a lot of people didn’t know why they were at war with Wutai in the first place. Turk-run propaganda before his sudden elevation had generated a significant amount of ‘them vs us’ mentality in the rest of the world the company controlled, a sudden reversal would do nothing but cut the young man’s own hands off at the wrists before he could even _start_.

“Again, _Princess_. Lunar, addict. Lunatic. Not _moon-crazy_ , just your more _homicidal_ flavored crazy.” He examined how much coffee he had left and debated with himself if it was worth it to order Sephiroth to go get him more. The brat kept dumping _exotic_ additives into it when he did just to see if he’d spit it out, but it was still _coffee_ no matter how it tasted. “Before you fucking ask, kid. Yes. Totally crazy, sorry. Won’t ever get much better than this, can get _significantly worse_ too.”

“…aah… ha. That’s… that’s really funny? Right…?” Zack trailed off weakly, blinking his glowing green tinted blue eyes at each of his ‘superiors’ trying to find someone that would ‘let him in on the joke’ or any reasonable explanation. “ _Guys…?”_

Scarlet gave the dark haired chunk of muscles a flat look over his mug, kind of more annoyed and really in need of getting his paperwork done before he could go light his forge for a new personal project or drop down a few floors to learn something new today.

Angeal smiled apologetically when his personally chosen student shot him a wide-eyed look, as if he had anything to do with how the Director of Advanced Weaponry’s mind had broken or needed to feel responsible for it. Sephiroth had figured out he was an evil little troll at heart some few war deployments ago and kept a straight face with pure serenity stamped on it. Genesis was six pages into the translations of the Banora underground cavern’s many markings and engravings already, and not paying a _whit_ of attention to anything else.

“You brought him here for a reason, or just to be fucking _social?”_

“He needs an actual sword, Director. Something a bit more… fit for him than the manufactured ones. He keeps breaking them in training.”

“I have no control on the swords stamped out to _be_ broken and replaced that easily, the automatic process is _shit_ but just to keep up with you assholes we kind of have to go with that until we can make individual weapons of a better make. Once you fucks hit _Second-Class._ ” Scarlet drained his coffee, setting the adorable ugly as sin mug back on his desk firmly. “You have _any_ idea what’s fit for him, if you’re bringing him to me now?”

“Zack has expressed a desire for something like my sword-“

“Angeal, man! Really! I _can wait-_ ”

“Zackary. Calm down, for the time being you _require_ your own sword just a little early. Scarlet made _Genesis’_ Rapier. He is an _excellent_ blacksmith.”

“I am the _master_ blacksmith of Shin-Ra.” Scarlet interjected flatly, picking up his pen again to jolt down a reminder to order enough metal for a specialized broadsword able to stand up to a SOLDIER’s strength. “See me in two weeks to pick it up, it won’t be _exactly_ the Buster Sword… no fun remaking what’s already done after all. Might make a more _utility_ -knife patterned blade instead of a complete straight edge.”

Angeal blinked grey-almost-purple eyes at him in bewilderment. “Sir? Wouldn’t you need to measure anything?”

“…seriously haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Scarlet is _known_ to have come from Mideel, and it is a matter of public record that he was apprenticed to a master blacksmith not _natively_ from the islands.” Sephiroth informed his friend blandly because he _was_ a little evil troll at heart. “Which, coincidentally, just so happens to be where one ‘Master Nova’ found him and remained long enough to have trained him in the blacksmithing skill. Which is near where you and Genesis are _from_ , it is possible your father retained Master Nova’s expertise for her to arrive in or remain in the Mideel island chain to forge him a sword. That is likely how Scarlet met her, hence his familiarity with the Buster Sword’s dimensions and why he does not require to examine it as we thought.”

“Master had me do the slots and the scrollwork on the _utterly minimal_ cross guard to prove I wasn’t wasting her time, to be her last student. It was the first weapon with linked slots forged into it from the start.” He confirmed bitterly, tapping the side of his pen on the paperwork he was supposed to be doing. “It’s where my love-hate affair with _useless frills_ started, fuck you very much. Your dad was a pretty cool guy, Angeal. Didn’t honestly _talk_ to him much, but he looked pretty much exactly like you down to the same eyes… just lit up now.”

The SOLDIER blinked several times, a startled and pleased smile starting on his face. “Well… there you go, Zack. Scarlet _helped make_ the Buster Sword. You can’t _possibly_ get a better blacksmith’s help for your own blade.”

“ _Before_ you say what’s written all over your face, SOLDIER Fair.” He got in before the kid’s kid could even open his mouth. “In order for _you_ to get _the_ Buster Sword… Hewley would _have to die._ You will of course _fucking excuse us_ if we’re not fond of the idea.”

Zack blinked at him, and the similarities to a puppy just _wouldn’t leave his head._ “No, he wouldn’t! Angeal never _uses_ his sword, I can use it for him!”

What?

No really, the kid honestly meant that exactly.

Scarlet blinked a couple times, faintly hearing something _ancient_ and _hot_ in the back of his head laughing hysterically. Very faintly. Hopefully he wasn’t _really_ hearing it, though it _echoed_ in a terrifyingly familiar way.

“…does anyone else feel like beaming him in the forehead with something?”

“Often. Repeatedly.” Genesis snapped with ill humor, slapping the leather-bound volume of handwritten translations and theories an archeologist wrote him shut. “The brat Angeal picked to tutor _never shuts up._ ”

“I could _say_ something-“

“ _There is no hate, only joy._ ” Deadpanned the poetry enthusiast with absolutely _no_ humor, probably easily seeing the irony but not in the mood to appreciate it as he blatantly stole the translation by slipping into his red leather coat pocket. “ _For you are beloved by the goddess. Hero of dawn, healer of worlds._ ”

He already knew what it all said, he wasn’t remotely bothered if Genesis wanted it. “Trust me, _that’s_ not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Does he… _actually_ get Genesis’ meaning, or is he just humoring him?” Zack asked of the other two, genuinely curious about the answer in a bewilderingly wholesome way.

Scarlet poked through his desk drawers, looking for something to pitch at the SOLDIER’s head that wouldn’t be lethal or something he’d need shortly. Just to see for the record, of course. “When you finally figure it out? I’m going to laugh my _ass_ off. Two weeks, now _get out_.”

* * *

**εγλ 1999 – November 12th**

“…why the _fuck_ are you _fuckers_ in _my house?”_

“Sorry Sunshine, house arrest. Guess we’re _roomies_ again!” Legend _fucking cheered_ as if he should be excited to hear it, sprawled out over the armchair he never saw before this very moment while the other two Turks probably waiting for him had the couch.

Not _exactly_ what he was all that appreciative of to find after coming home from a long day of work.

Scarlet considered the spear in his hands, the Turks _yet again_ invading his home, then eyed the new if somewhat unfortunately violet-tinted metal of his Dragoon Lance thoughtfully. “Can I just kill him?”

Vincent _thought about it_ , though unfortunately Veld sighed heavily. “Please don’t.”

“Fine… what the fuck did you do, Legend, and how much shit are we giving you for it?”

Curiously, the total playboy didn’t immediately snap something or continue to try and rile him up more about suddenly needing a permanent non-company owned address for however long.

“We were just coming up on the topic.” Allowed Chaos’ host mildly, absently flexing the significantly _less_ ancient or clunky prosthetic Scarlet eventually bitched him into getting to replace the clawed one. “Legend has been very reluctant to speak of why he allowed the man he was ordered to retrieve to die.”

“…do either of you really _care?_ Frankly, if _Legend_ thinks someone needs to die… fuck, I’d trust him in that. He’s a womanizing asshole of a phenomenal degree yeah, but seriously isn’t _honestly_ a bad guy.”

“I _know_ why Legend let him die, in fact… that’s _why_ I sent him. He had unfinished business to take care of and did as I suspected he would with the opportunity. Not a _great_ loss, not a _good_ one, but an expected complication when you have previously opposing agents on staff.” Veld revealed pointedly, tapping fingers on his own biceps from where they were with his arms crossed over his chest. “That’s _not_ the issue. I would like to know why the base where Legend was sent to clear out of an occupying force is _now rubble._ It _was_ strategically important.”

“My bad.”

His best friend raised one _supremely unimpressed_ eyebrow.

Legend _sulked_ in response to it. “Okay, I lost my temper a little. Happy now? Shit, rookie. When did you get _unfun?”_

Scarlet coughed awkwardly, setting his spear in the weapon rack noticeably _not holding anyone else’s weapons_ before joining them in his own living room _._ “I… ah… might’ve had a _lot_ to do with that, sorry.”

“I do not believe you solely bear the burden for it.” Vincent chipped in quietly.

“…yeah, can we skip this part?” Inquired the explosive expert dryly, waving a hand as if batting away the usual smoke that he breathed in like it was a requirement for his survival. “Shit happened, we got your ass out of that creepy crypt and Sunshine’s on the mend _and_ I’ve rejoined the company. All’s well that ends well, right?”

“Hasn’t quite ended yet, Legend.”

“Will in a couple months if what you said was right, one way or another.” Shot back the usually shameless playboy easily, going back to lounging all over the mysteriously appearing armchair. “Do I get time off my sentence for good behavior, _Director_ Verdot?”

“I’m _tempted_ to say no.” Their ‘technically the boss’ shot back without missing a beat. “But I feel I may be forced to in order to prevent Scarlet from murdering you in another fit of ‘justifiable homicide’. That is, if you do not wish to be returned to Costa de Sol.”

Legend seriously thought about it. “My place has been closed up for _years_ , Verdot. Even if so, no power or water there right now and it’d take a couple days at least. I mean, the sun and beach would be _awesome_ … especially when you consider Sunshine’s place hasn’t _seen_ any sunshine for about two years now. But no. I left for a _reason_ , which got fixed by that ‘justifiable homicide’. I came back for another one entirely.”

“…glad I could be of use to you fuckers.” Scarlet muttered dryly, shoving his hands into his pockets as all the seats he _used_ to have were filled and the one he _didn’t_ had a freeloader in it already. “Same rules as always, Legend. You fuck it up, you _clean_ it up. I don’t _care_ if you did it while you were drunk.”

The guy merely shrugged, rolling a wry grin at all of them. “See, told you Sunshine likes me _best._ ”

“I’d like to _best_ murder you, but Verdot keeps telling me I’m not allowed.”

“Still best!”

Rolling his eyes hard, the blacksmith turned to the host of Chaos. “Vincent, how well is Crescent doing on the JENOVA parts gathering?”

“Most of what was left, in the north crater, has been dug up some time ago. Hojo was _at least_ very meticulous about it.” He tilted his head to the side, red eyes wandering off into the distance as he recalled the information. “The issue is what Hojo imbued into his various… experiments. We can only account for about seventy percent of what you have not already sacrificed to Minerva for my sake.”

“Has anyone found her head yet?”

Vincent thought about it more, but eventually gave a tiny sigh. “Not as of yet… might I inquire as to why her head specifically?”

Scarlet huffed, not _particularly_ happy to hear that. “JENOVA’s head, or the head she subsumed, was of one very intelligent woman who raised creatures to survive below-zero or worse conditions naturally themselves without her in only a few years. The virus itself is _stupid_ as shit, without that memory-Lifestream-linked intelligence keeping all the infected cells moving for a common goal, the rest will go hyperactive and _rot_ out of those it has infected. It’s _alien,_ not actually fit for thriving on this Planet, and it’s been _faking it_ with the help of that poor Cetra woman’s biology. When we hand the head over, we’re going to need a plan to handle the problem in place.”

“If we had this head, would we then _need_ to continue hunting JENOVA’s cells?”

“There’s no guarantee there isn’t a random spark of adaptation in any of the cell clusters, while Shiva froze it solid before it _might’ve_ all those years ago… JENOVA’s been defrosted for long enough there _might now be_ development or adaptation.” He held up two fingers at the men. “One, we need to fix _Sephiroth_ before handing over the head. He’ll be the biggest JENOVA-tainted concentration without any of the ‘original’ parts left, the moment she loses the largest mass outside of him she’ll try to jump and take him over. Or drive him madder than I am. Two… well… it’s going to _suck._ That rot. JENOVA got dug out of the magical ice keeping her sedated some thirty forty years ago, she spread pretty far with Hojo’s entirely too willing help.”

Veld pulled a face at his understatement, given the man was _still_ trying to cleanse the Deepground issue some couple years later after finding it.

There were unfortunately too many fanatics down there for the situation to have been wrapped up quickly, or more specifically one fanatical Restrictor that controlled the rest, and as Shin-Ra was already committed to a public war effort the Turk of Turks couldn’t really redirect a lot of manpower to that nightmare.

So much for a ‘medical facility for SOLDIERs’. Hojo had turned it into his inhuman wonderland of torture and brutality with old man Shin-Ra’s approval, with shockingly effective results. Scarlet honestly _didn’t_ ever play **_Dirge of Cerberus_** as often as **_Final Fantasy VII_** in another lifetime to be of any help in it, not that his best friend asked for any.

He only vaguely knew the story line, and not well at all.

Here’s the thing, though… Deepground was supposed to only be found _three years after_ meteorfall. Meaning those in **_Dirge of Cerberus_** were all _survivors_ of Geo-stigma, to go with trapped in a subterranean environment with possibly sketchy food sources.

That can of worms had been popped early, and it was utterly healthy as almost fully supplied and probably insane human experimentation survivors could be. Keeping it _contained_ was probably all Veld _could do_ until there were more SOLDIERs freed up from the war to assist him, and for a completely non-altered outfit of perfectly normal people?

Well, the ‘field agent’ Turks could fight the Zack-tainted-Sephiroth-clone _Cloud Strife_ to a near standstill without aid. Turk agents were not ever to be underestimated if one valued surviving for long.

“I kind of know how to get around that rot… thankfully. Can’t honestly _start it_ until it becomes a problem, so fuck it. The only _other_ issue I’ve been meaning to bring up is… well, the Reactors.”

“I am _aware_ they are ‘harming’ the Planet and Her.” His best friend gave him a stare down of his own, and it wasn’t a happy one. “ _However_ , until such time I have _concrete proof_ you will no longer be harmed by Her… I’m not going to be the one to inform Reeve of the actual price of his design.”

Scarlet shifted in place uneasily, because he _really did_ kind of enjoy having a friend that wasn’t Turk-centric and sometimes came with only _almost_ more trouble than they were worth. “Can we just drag him along when we go fix the SOLDIERs?”

Given _Legend_ seemed to like the idea, he instantly knew it’d be kind of an asshole move.

“…how _else_ are we going to explain it to him?” Vincent inquired cautiously, being the only one of them that never dealt with the head of Urban Development and therefore not exactly a subject matter expert. “Furthermore… the city itself requires a massive amount of power as it is, and it is not complete. How _else_ is it to be powered? Wind and solar energy only generate so much from my vague understanding of the concepts.”

“Might as well go nuclear, honestly.” He admitted, then blinked when he got three Turk stares for the offhand comment. “…what?”

“Scarlet, we are _not engineers_.” Veld lectured rather tiredly, palming one side of his face and that scar he still didn’t know the origin of. “What even _is_ nuclear power?”

“…particle physics. I had to do _something_. I was _bored_.” When he still got Turk-looks, the blacksmith hunched his thankfully once again well-muscled shoulders defensively. “Basically a big ass water-tower, radioactive materials boiling off. Big ass hydroelectric generator based on the principles, equally as safe as mako Reactors, in the _simplest concepts_.”

“ _Nerd._ ” Legend jeered, disagreeing with him cheerfully.

“Verdot, you _sure_ I can’t kill him?”

“If _I_ can’t, _you_ can’t.” Denied his best friend cruelly like the asshole he was.

“I always wondered why I came back.” Vincent informed him blandly, appearing rather bored if you discounted the gleam of amusement in those red eyes. “Then someone threatens someone else with murder or tries to commit it, and I remember again. Your pain amuses me.”

“…fuck _you_ , assholes.”

* * *

**εγλ 0000 – August 27th**

The virtual reality training room wasn’t _Scarlet’s_ invention, but as the electrical engineers were part of his Division… he was about ready to try stabbing every SOLDIER he saw for continually _breaking the fucking thing_ before they could stabilize the design in something they _couldn’t_ break.

Normally, yeah. He _fucking appreciated_ the SOLDIERs and how rough they were on equipment, helped him and his various departments figure out how to idiot-proof it all before it became an issue by breaking down when it was desperately needed by someone.

 _Normally_.

The three utterly _unapologetic_ SOLDIERs First-Class that got caught red-handed by him when he was trying to see about reinforcing the floor with a different alloy overnight were starting to seriously piss him off. “ _What. The. HELL. BRATS._ ”

“Good evening, Director Scarlet.” Sephiroth claimed to his face serenely, actually getting to know the guy that was probably the only real father figure he ever had meant he could do the whole ‘no, I don’t care you caught me and I’m going to do it more because I know it pisses you off’ thing just as well as Vincent could. “Was there something you required from us?”

He ducked the coffee mug thrown at his head that shattered on the glass walls, luckily not the one Felicia made him but the one he used while going around the company’s _still under construction_ headquarters. Accidents _did_ happen, that was his excuse and he was sticking with it.

“You seemed to have been deprived of your usual beverage of choice, Director. I shall immediately fetch you a new one.”

“I have a puppy to go walk-I mean, train. Oh look at the time, must be off!”

With their separate excuses given, Angeal and Sephiroth immediately split and disappeared in opposite directions so he wouldn’t be able to catch them both.

Leaving behind a somewhat pensive Genesis alone with Scarlet.

“…hey, kid? You alright in there?”

The younger redhead snapped out of his thoughts, then realized his friends had abandoned him. “Those _assholes._ ”

“Yep… been there before myself. Most of my friends are too. What’s wrong, Rhapsodos? You usually are the first one to ditch me when you three do shit like this.”

Genesis studied him thoughtfully, and Scarlet would’ve assumed he had just a lot on his mind if it wasn’t for the fact the naturally pale skinned SOLDIER was about two shades too light even in the middle of the night in front of the ‘glowing box’ as he termed the virtual reality training room some months ago. “Why did they stop giving SOLDIER injections after Angeal’s puppy’s class of recruits? Do you know?”

“Offhand? Not a damn clue.” Scarlet admitted blandly, scratching what was probably a burn on his neck from burning-hot metal shavings flecking his whole upper body from visiting the machinists’ wing on floor 42 while the night-shift cranked out all the specifically shaped metal intended to be used the next day. “But, as you’ve long since realized… I’ve got Turk friends. I can find out both the company’s ‘official’ stance and the real reason. Why do you want to know, kid?”

“Ah… no real reason, Director.” The SOLDIER immediately switched from too serious to complete snot, though he remained paler than he should be. “ _All that awaits you is a somber morrow, no matter where the winds may blow_ … were you not _yelling_ at us?”

“Are you _volunteering_ for it?” Rather more morbid than what the kid usually stuck with, but suspicions were _not_ enough to take anything to Veld. Even if Scarlet was running out of ‘grace’ time with Minerva and was facing the very real possibility he’d have to stave Her off alone with whatever strength he had gotten in the meantime.

…as a matter of fact, wasn’t he _now past due_ for making good on his deal with Her?

Did She even know how long a ‘year’ was, much less three?

“Ah fuck it. Beat it, kid. I’ll yell at all three of you in the morning.”

“You mean _grumble_ at us in the morning. I am sure it will prove to be _hilarious_ , Director.”

Scarlet glared at the smarmy brat. “ _Or_ I could enlist your help in re-cladding the flooring with me all night. I mean _I_ wouldn’t complain about the help, and you’d get to put your ridiculously overly powerful muscles to work for a _good_ cause.”

Genesis very nearly said something snappish and sly but huffed instead and pulled back a little too abruptly. “…good night, Director. Sorry about breaking it.”

“Again.”

“Again.” Agreed the younger man brightly, stepping off with a jaunty wave of a wrist.

“…fucking _finally_.” Veld could get him confirmation… as long as Hollander didn’t try something very stupid. “Let’s _finish_ this shit…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not the end of the story, but it is by technicality now complete as intended.  
> What's left is the actual meeting between the SOLDIERs and Minerva, some snippets of backstory I thought of but couldn't use, and maybe some clarifications as needed. Stay tuned, as I make no promises on when those will be posted.


	21. εγλ 0000 – August 29th to 30th

**εγλ 0000 – August 29th**

“Why isn’t it _healing?”_

“Genesis,” Doctor Hollander tutted as if he hadn’t been _listening_ , making a completely ineffectual pushing motion towards him as if that would get the apparently ‘degrading’ SOLDIER to calm down, “I _want to_ help you. I do, my boy. Project G just _wasn’t_ as effective as Project J, Hojo did _something_ -“

There was a click as a gun cocked, and the medical doctor/geneticist froze in horror as another man joined them in his examination room that was supposedly _private_.

“Doctor Hollander, you will _remain silent_ or the execution you barely escaped some years ago for your involvement in this _farce_ will be revisited as an _option._ ” Director Verdot informed the man he was holding at gunpoint, for once looking rather pissed off when he barely raised an eyebrow at Director Scarlet swearing vilely in his own face on occasion. “SOLDIER Rhapsodos, Scarlet has indicated to me that your biology is starting to reject the SOLDIER injection. Is this the case?”

“…you **_knew_** _._ ”

“We were waiting for it. Indeed, as you inquired of the other Director, there was a reason we ceased the practice of SOLDIER injections. In those with a higher Cetra heritage than what seems to be average, the injections tend to result in a ‘degradation’ either after a period of years or once the individual ‘matures’. Wounds will heal significantly slower than in a baseline human, the mind starts to become unbalanced or the individual becomes irrational, you will begin aging rapidly from the stress as your biology fights _itself_.”

Genesis felt ice slide down his spine, listening to the man rattle off his list of symptoms that the _good doctor_ had to examine him to conclude. “So… is this _it?_ Am I to be killed, _disposed of_ like a failed science experiment? What of Angeal, Sephiroth? Angeal’s _puppy_ , the _last_ SOLDIER?”

Verdot uncocked his pistol, tucking it away in his ever-present business wear the man wore like a uniform when _technically_ he was nothing but an ‘auditor’ and ran a Division of paper pushers.

Paper pushers, _accountants_ , were not always armed nor ran the equivalent of a special operations branch of effective agents at the same time they reviewed budgets.

The head of the Turks regarded him calmly for the accusations thrown in his face, even if he could carry them out without anyone being any the wiser. “Scarlet would be _most_ upset, and then attempt to actually murder _me_ as he did the former President Shin-Ra. No, Rhapsodos. We have long since identified the issue and have a ‘correction’ that does _not_ result in your death pending. Please assemble your fellow First-Class SOLDIERs on the helipad tomorrow afternoon at three, as Hewley is probably on the edge of the same condition even if we suspect the younger Valentine to have some more years yet, there is no point in waiting longer now.”

“How do _you_ know it’s a ‘correction?” Genesis snarled at the block of ice pretending to be a man, trying to keep in mind ‘irrational’ as a symptom but not in the mood to attempt reigning in his entirely justified bile.

“You may consider the _senior_ Valentine as a prototype SOLDIER, he _is stable_ Rhapsodos. We _have done this_ before, it is a _proven method_ of readjustments to one’s unbalanced biology. If that does not assuage your concerns, _Scarlet will be there_. The man _will_ kick me off a helicopter if he _suspects_ I intend to harm any of the three of you, a long-standing friendship with the man or not.”

…that _really_ shouldn’t be assuring, the presence of a snarly bitchy master blacksmith who threw things at Angeal’s puppy almost automatically but let Genesis steal all the Cetra translations he ever knew of or could get and suffered through Sephiroth’s many questions on every topic under the sun even if he knew nothing about it. His coffee addiction could probably kill a lesser man, he had extraordinarily little patience for anything not metallic or his responsibility, and the older man swore like a sailor as easily as he could talk properly without it.

In the list of people Genesis _could trust_ at all in Shin-Ra itself, Director Scarlet did rank higher than most everyone not a SOLDIER apparently at the same risk he was for ‘degradation’.

He rolled his shoulders uneasily, the sting of the wound Sephiroth caused him in a _spar_ that started this little waking nightmare reminding him that it was possible he had little options but to pick and choose which of the men he wanted to try believing in.

“…will I remain a SOLDIER?” A ‘cure’, or a ‘correction’.

Verdot arched a single eyebrow. “Vincent has seen no reduction in his level of ability, and indeed he has merely increased in the three years since as any regularly fighting individual could expect. You may inquire more from the man himself.”

The geneticist that had a hand in making him a monster, or the man that worked as a shadowy enforcer for the company that demanded it?

Genesis glanced from one man to the other, not able to damn himself if one option proved less than effective as either was certain of.

“If it will reassure you, my wife and child will be there. Scarlet’s _niece_ will be there. SOLDIER Valentine’s _parents_ , and the President Shin-Ra and his brother. You may invite all you wish, regardless of what you inform them it is about.”

“Sounds like a regular _picnic._ ”

Verdot studied him silently for a moment, then nodded once. “A fine idea, I will use it once your situation is stable. How _is_ Banora’s countryside?”

“Full of dumbapples.” The materia specialist SOLDIER bitterly admitted, utterly confused now but without the possibly ‘irrational’ anger with _everything_ brewing in his chest he could realize _the spy_ was offering him _targets_ to be _reassuring_. He hated himself just a little more as it _seemed to be working_. “All these people… you are _fairly_ confident that it’ll work, Director of Turks.”

“I was there with Vincent after his retrieval.” He revealed simply. “In a different location, but the process remains the same. We have _results_ , tangible ones, SOLDIER Rhapsodos. I do not require you to _believe_ in it, merely to accept our assistance in correcting what went wrong and see it for yourself.”

Whereas Doctor Hollander could only promise a _maybe_ if he acquired a few things from a scientist already executed by the company, rather than actual proof.

“ _My soul, corrupted by vengeance. Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey_.” Genesis straightened up, because if anything else… monster or not he was _still_ a SOLDIER. He’d face whatever this was proudly, not a wreck of a man. “Very well then, Director. Tomorrow afternoon at three. Myself, Angeal, Sephiroth, _and_ Angeal’s puppy. Let’s see what _you_ are so certain of.”

The commander of spies and saboteurs inclined his head, then slid a glance over to the still silently terrified good doctor apparently responsible for his own specific situation and his best friend’s. “Doctor Hollander… I believe _you were warned_ to no longer interfere with the SOLDIER program or the SOLDIERs themselves _._ ”

He left the _good doctor_ to his just desserts, mind whirling with implications and questions.

* * *

**εγλ 0000 – August 30th**

“…Genesis? What is going _on?”_ When all Angeal got was stubborn silence, he looked around somewhat bewilderedly at the whole gathering of top Shin-Ra executives and random other individuals he had never seen in the company’s headquarters before on the Shin-Ra company’s main helipad.

That wasn’t _surprising_ , Shin-Ra had many Divisions and sub-departments that had nothing to do with the SOLDIER branch in many different cities around the world. However, from where he was standing with his friends and his protégé… he could see young President Shin-Ra arguing something quietly with his brother Director Deusericus, _their_ Director of the SOLDIER branch of the military.

Director Verdot was three steps away from the younger men, with Sephiroth’s once missing father and a Turk supposedly older than him but looked about the same age. There was yet another in the Turk blue business wear, ginger haired and grinning no matter what they were discussing.

The head of the Turks also had a young girl on his hip, who was apparently entirely too curious for her own good and why the possible father had lifted her off her feet. He also had a very pretty woman almost welded into his other side, who seemed equally as curious if less unrestrained with it than her very probable daughter.

As no one had yet glanced twice at the four SOLDIERs nor asked why they were here too Angeal was fully aware they _had_ been ordered to attend whatever was going on, but it just seemed very odd to him they were apparently _a part_ of this and not merely there for security.

“Zackary, please stop squatting.”

“But! _Angeal!_ This is _exciting!_ I’ve got too much energy again…” Rising up to a standing position again, his student shot him an irrepressible grin as he tucked both hands behind his head. “I have _no_ idea what’s even going _on._ Man, even _Kunsel_ doesn’t know and he knows _everything_.”

“Then he does not, in fact, know everything.” Sephiroth pointed out with cold logic, though he could guess his friend was also far enough outside the loop even with a solid relationship with his Turk father to be annoyed by that. “This is a very… odd grouping. I understand the logic of retaining SOLDIERs for security with so many high-profile individuals all gathered together, but it seems as if the Turks are providing security instead.”

“That’s because we’re all here for _you_ four, silly.” A mischievous voice informed them, and when their silver-haired comrade moved to allow them all to see the speaker they all could clearly see the noticeably young lady that was beaming at them. The green-eyed brunette wearing a short red jacket over a lace dress with surprisingly sensible short boots gave them all a smile each. “Hi. Uncle told me a lot about you guys.”

Angeal smiled back politely. Aware that the other two First-Classes wouldn’t, and his student might just say something very stupid to a pretty girl very possibly related somehow to equally as important men gathered here. “Well then, you seemed to have us at a disadvantage, Miss…?”

“Oh, silly _me._ I’m Aerith Gainsborough, or Gast. Either is fine.” She rocked back on her heels, arms tucked behind her neatly. “I know who you are, Angeal Hewley. And Genesis Rhapsodos, and Sephiroth Valentine. SOLDIERs First-Class. Good afternoon!”

“Aww… not me?” Zack pouted at the pretty young lady, which earned him a shy giggle and Angeal despaired of _everything_ because yes. His student _was_ flirting with the other teenager very possibly related to a Shin-Ra executive. “Hi, I’m Zackary Fair! Second-Class SOLDIER!”

“I know.” Aerith allowed teasingly as she let herself return to a more stable stance. “You’re usually just called ‘Angeal’s damn _puppy_ ’ when Uncle talks about you. Or, when I can _get him_ to talk about you.”

…a high-ranking Shin-Ra employee that _would_ swear in front of a young female niece and not see that as uncouth?

Oh dear… he suspected he knew who Aerith’s uncle was.

Genesis was at least now watching the train wreck about to happen in front of them with more of his usual if somewhat vicious now glee, so there was _that._

“That’s _mean_ , what did I even _do?”_ Wondered the sometimes thick SOLDIER, but accepted the ill-will with his usual disregard for it because Zack _believed_ that people just had to get to know one another to become fast friends for life. Somehow, despite evidence to the contrary in the young woman’s very uncle who never stopped throwing whatever was at hand at his forehead. “ _Anyway_ … do you know _why_ we’re all here for us?”

“Of _course_ I do! I’m just not old enough to help yet, sorry. But my Uncle will take care of it!” Bringing her hands out from behind her, the young woman showed them a rather strange almost Limit-Break looking bubble of green-tinted glowing energy she could summon to them for about three seconds. “I’ll get better, I promise.”

“That’s… very impressive.” Angeal allowed for, because it _was_ and he knew men that couldn’t summon even a pale copy of their Limit-Breaks forth at will, while Zack cheered and clapped for her ‘success’ regardless if it would ‘help’ them or not. “What is it?”

“Healing Wind. I’ll work up to Pulse of Life quickly, according to Uncle. But he’s a spearman, I’m better with staves. It’s a little slow right now.” Abashed by a perceived failure on her part, Aerith tucked her hands behind herself again and gave him an apologetic smile this time. “It’s important you keep your friend calm, please. There’s a lot of people to get there, and coordination is a little tricky with so many important people.”

‘Keep calm’ was a very specific request to make, given his best friend’s very capricious hold on his temper lately. “At least more than we knew before, thank you.”

“There’s really no way to _explain_ it and have it make sense, at least not until you can understand.” She informed him earnestly, only slightly apologetic but still very mischievous in it now they were past her inability to ‘assist’ them due to her youth. “But you _will_ understand, before the day’s done. We’re not all that far away, at least according to Uncle.”

More _confused_ than reassured, but at least the teenager honestly believed in her own vague explanation, Angeal nodded back. “Thank you for the explanation, Miss Gainsborough. Even if it didn’t really explain anything.”

“Sorry!” The little imp was not remotely apologetic about causing confusion, either. She beamed at them again. “I just really wanted to meet you guys…”

“Even me?” Zack hastened to say before his mentor could continue the conversation.

“Even you.” Aerith confirmed less cheerful and more bashful.

“You want to go on a date with me?” Inquired the brash young man, causing Angeal to bury his face in both hands and Genesis to bark a harsh laugh.

“… _you little **fuck.**_ ”

“Eep! Director Scarlet!”

“Uncle!” Angeal looked up just in time to see her whirling on her ‘uncle’, the young teenager then planted her fists on her hips and tried to scowl sternly up at the tall redhead. “Shush. He was just _asking._ ”

Scarlet _glowered_ nastily over her shoulder at poor Zack, gripping a massive lance in one hand compulsively as he probably fought the near-automatic habit of tossing what he had in hand at the SOLDIER’s forehead. “Aerith, Princess. Seriously. Find a nice young _lady_ to take home and introduce to your mom, girls are _so much better_ than boys. Boys are mean and have germs. I’d know, I am one.”

“Hallelujah, amen!”

“Shut _up,_ Legend!” Snarled the much recovered from when they first met him blacksmith, trying to herd his young relation away from the SOLDIERs and still shooting a very pale Zack a dirty look every other second. “You’re half the damn reason _why_ I have that opinion!”

“Just spreading the _good word_ , Sunshine!”

“…that is the ‘Legendary’ Turk, then?” Sephiroth inquired, likely not because he forgot why they were here already or didn’t also want more information but because he was possibly acquiring more puzzle pieces for other concerns he had.

“Vincent never introduced…? No, don’t think he would’ve before he got himself in hot water, would he?” Thinking about it, and finally giving up on removing his niece from them with everything but actual force, the Director of Advanced Weaponry scowled at the orange-haired man across the helipad. “Yeah, that’s ‘ _the_ Legendary Turk’. He’s been under house arrest for the last year, he blew up something he shouldn’t have and Verdot had to slap him on the wrist _somehow_ before his Turks decided blowing up their mission objectives counted as ‘clear out’. Fucker’s been freeloading off _me_ , the asshole. Damn fine explosive expert, enough to _use_ bombs as a personal weapon. Complete _womanizer_ and a lush.”

Angeal didn’t even try to stop his eyebrows from flying upwards or disguise his disbelief. “Bombs.”

“Bombs.” Scarlet confirmed dryly, setting the _also_ sharpened end of that double-ended violet tipped lance on the tarmac to merely hold instead of carry with as he moved. “Fucking _stupid_ to rely on something so limited you can’t actually use in close quarters when you run out, but he pulls it off. Somehow. Hence, ‘Legend’ the Legendary Turk. You _do_ have your staff, right Princess?”

The teenager dug into a pouch hidden on her waist and pulled a series of connected short cylinders about the length of her hand from it, with a practiced flick of her wrist it all snapped straight into a long staff taller than she was with metallic clicks and the dull thud of magnets overcoming resistance to hold two or apparently more bits of metal together. “Yep! All ready, Uncle Scarlet!”

“It’ll take two or three hours to get there, and we’re still waiting on Reeve. Pack it away for now but good job remembering when I didn’t tell you, Princess.” Looking back at the SOLDIERs as the girl depressed some locks to fold up her expanding staff, the man grimaced sourly after locking eyes with Genesis. “I’ll tell you kids the whole story, all several _hundred years_ of it once we’re done. _After_. It really doesn’t _matter_ right now, but we do need to _fix it_ as fast as we can first. It’ll do you no favors to hear it first, Rhapsodos.”

“Why _wait_ , then?” His best friend suddenly spoke up, threads of some alarming anger and disgust underlying his voice that he didn’t understand the need for.

“Because it _literally wouldn’t_ have helped you any _then_. I tried to buy you three the most time I could, and the fact it’s _happened_ is probably less to do with me and more with the guys.” Scarlet hitched a well-muscled shoulder, spreading his hands and letting his massive spear fall into the crook of his elbow instead. “Hollander did it to _you_ and Hewley, Hoko-hinky did it to Sephiroth and Fair. I’ll fix it for you, because it’s _really_ the least I can fucking do since they were so _fucking shit_.”

Genesis very obviously reigned himself in abruptly, unsettled and still so angry for no reason Angeal could see. “Why _you?”_

“Because he’s _my_ knight!” Aerith blinked wide green eyes up at the younger redhead beseechingly. “I can’t, yet. Uncle can, he’s done it before. And you can’t wait that long, so let’s go.”

Scarlet turned his head, giving the huffing and just arrived head of Urban Development clutching a stitch in his side an amused look. “Took you long enough, Reeve.”

<<◊>>

Despite the number of ‘extras’, which Sephiroth suspected were included to either distract from or hide the nature of this ‘emergency mission’, they did in fact make good time to the Mideel island chain and more specifically Banora. Genesis’ and Angeal’s home village.

Scarlet fixed Aerith’s hair when she demanded the blacksmith do so after it becoming disarrayed by the backwash of the helicopter blades winding down as they disembarked, which he did for all the ladies with surprisingly little grumbling regardless if it was a full grown wife of another Director or a young woman. Rufus Shin-Ra only waited just long enough for his head weapons maker to get through his momentary stint as a surprisingly decent hair stylist, before moving off with a purpose and leading the group straight into a well-maintained processing plant for Banora’s famed apple juice.

“Your mother will meet us there.” Vincent had warned him lowly, soft enough only the two of them would be able to hear his words, just before the older man sunk into the shadows with ‘the Legendary Turk’. Likely clear the way for them.

Curious and curiouser.

More than half their rather large party had little to no clue what was going on, by the snatches of conversations he could pick up. The other individuals that _knew_ , Scarlet and his niece, Verdot, possibly his own parents, and Legend, were not forthcoming with many details when any asked for them. Then there were the few that had been _informed_ , the head of Turk’s apparent wife and Rufus Shin-Ra from the sounds of it.

Several times, he counted three so far in the upper part of the hidden cavern system of Banora, Director Scarlet and his perky niece split off from the group hunting something specific. Rather unusually large pieces of red materia though, from the cautioning words that echoed off the uneven surfaces of irregular cave walls to him as they were distributed to be carried, they were _not_ Summoning Materia.

“Genesis… a _hint_ would be appreciated.”

“That infuriating loon is _right_ , it won’t _help_.”

Sephiroth dropped back to his fellow SOLDIERs, and Zack, were trailing at the end of the very strange procession. “I will admit, however much has been _implied_ that we all are the reason for this… I am somewhat curious as well.”

“I have little to _no idea_ what’s going _on_ , but I do know _why_. And the _why_ is bad enough I’m not even going to _ask_ why we’re down here.” Genesis gave yet another uneasy roll of both shoulders, nervously tapping the Rapier against a different side than his usual one. “If Director Scarlet can’t tell you _after_ , Angeal, I’ll let you know.”

“Not me?” He inquired, however little he _liked_ the fact it made him sound like Angeal’s hand-picked protégé’s whining.

“You apparently _have_ several more years.”

Bitterness?

“…but not you.” Angeal concluded from that hint grimly. “Nor me?”

Genesis snorted sourly as they left the part of the cave system lit up and grated with a walkway to traverse even deeper into the earth. “They also didn’t say how long your puppy has, Angeal. But… it has to do with why he’s the _last one._ ”

“There’s a _reason?”_ Chipped in the young man in question curiously as he followed the group as almost a rear guard than as a part of it, though not _quietly_. “Huh, I just thought they figured they had enough.”

“…only _you_ , Puppy, would think something like that…”

“Hey, it’s perfectly _logical._ I had just joined!”

Even in the dimness, all four of them could easily see President Shin-Ra glance backwards at them with a sardonic eyebrow raised before he got distracted by the other Directors for a more mundane business-related reason.

While amused, Angeal was starting to be affected by the obviously alarming subtext the burly SOLDIER could usually pick up well before Sephiroth to have a thoughtful furrow creasing his brow. “What, _exactly_ , is so far down here that _we_ need?”

“…uh, Angeal? Guys? What is _that?”_

Surprised, all three First-Class SOLDIERs followed Zack’s pointing finger at… an emerald green colored monster. Sleeping, or in stasis.

The sheer _size_ of the creature was _daunting_ even with it only partially revealed, and Sephiroth had practically grown up on a battlefield or being part of a military campaign. Given the dirt encrusting it, and the _solid rock_ it was still partially encased within, he couldn’t explain how the creature _could be_ anything besides a fossil of a long-deceased monster.

However… no, it was in stasis. It did not seem emaciated nor harmed by the exceedingly long time spent possibly buried in sheer rock, or the pressures that had to be acting upon it this far underground.

Equally, while he could work out what possibly was a _head_ … he could not understand how such a creature had _developed_ nor _how_ it obtained its obscene size with no obvious mouth to consume other creatures.

“Okay…” Angeal spoke up after a long moment. “Zack, I have _no idea._ ”

“The Emerald WEAPON.” Director Scarlet volunteered for them, walking back to them with his niece with yet another of the ruby red orbs in hand. “Come on, kids. Keep up, we can only have Rufus outside of Shin-Ra company property for so long before idiots will start panicking about it.”

“Are you aware of _why_ it’s here, Director?” Sephiroth inquired as the SOLDIERs kept up with the two of them to rejoin the more ragged line of individuals filing down even _deeper_ into the earth.

“Failsafe. Let’s just be happy the fucking thing’s still asleep, or I’m _never_ going to get the submarine idea past the drawing board.” Shaking off the tip of his lance, the master blacksmith exchanged a glance with his claimed niece that bore little to no resemblance to him. “Submersible vehicle, there’s _probably_ adamantium deposits underwater… _and_ fishermen might like to know more about fish too, I guess.”

Aerith beamed at the older redhead, skipping on ahead with her staff in hand to rejoin the ladies of the group.

“She’s _really_ pretty…” Zack unfortunately picked _that very moment_ to speak up behind them.

Scarlet took a deep breath, very stubbornly _not_ looking back at Angeal’s very troublesome Puppy. “I’m just going to _ignore that._ ”

“Thank you, Director.” The SOLDIER tutoring the Second-Class SOLDIER sighed out in relief. “I’m really very sorry about this.”

Shouldering his spear-lance weapon to carry it easier than he could at a ready position while they all continued, the blacksmith gave him a sour look then glared at the nervous young teenager following them. “As the Princess will fucking ignore me if I tell her something she doesn’t want to hear, you _make her cry_ SOLDIER Fair… I _will give you_ a permanent stab-wound through your thick head. Got it?”

“I _knew_ you were warming up to me, man!”

Angeal hurriedly put his student into a headlock, muffling any protests or further comments that would annoy an armed man with one bicep. “Very. _Very_ sorry, Director. I’ll work on it with him.”

“I think it might be a lost cause, Hewley.” Scarlet countered dryly. “Come on, about five more minutes of walking and we’ll be there. Rhapsodos, quick word of advice. Do _not do_ exactly what you _think about doing_ when you see. Trust me, kids, it’s _not worth it._ ”

“ _Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul. Pride is lost. Wings stripped away, the end is nigh._ ”

“Exactly.” Grumbled the older redhead, picking up speed instead of answering any of the likely obvious questions he then left the four of them with. “Move it, SOLDIERs. I have other shit to do today.”

<<◊>>

Minerva, though she was _visibly unhappy_ they defiled Her ‘presence’ so with bits and pieces of corpses and all these random people, only took fifteen minutes of solid bitching to do what Scarlet wanted Her to do.

He suspected She was amused by his habit of swearing at Her too, as it seemed three quarters of his friends had decided to be and his boss was miserably resigned to him doing, but as now She had about three-quarters of JENOVA’s nasty ass purified from not only the Planet but four SOLDIERs too… he didn’t give a flying fuck.

She lingered in reality past the point She needed to, and that did kind of concern him.

Although, it might just be because they brought Her last Cetra to Her too.

Aerith was over the damn _moon_ , able to hear Her clearly in the heart of her own domain than in shitty Midgar. She was praying hard and communicating with all the Ancients that had hung on in the Lifestream to give her tips and tricks about being a Cetra she would never have rediscovered with or without Scarlet’s help.

…Reeve had a panic attack, and the master blacksmith and Her holy agent was a little busy coaching the poor guy through it to be paying all that much attention to anyone else adjusting to the realization or knowledge that Minerva was actually a legit deity with actual influence on the world.

“Just… fuck, man. Breathe. In and out. Nice and slow. Sorry about springing this on you, but… would you have _believed it?”_

The head of Urban Development quietly wheezed, sitting flat on his ass and with his best attempt to put his head between his knees as advised. “Scarlet… _my Reactors!”_

“Are kind of an issue, yeah.” Either the guy was even _smarter_ than he assumed, or She had given him the heads up about that drain threatening to kill the Planet in a couple years like the bitch She was. “Breathe. You didn’t know. Now you do and can _do something_ about it.”

“… _you knew!”_

“Again. Man. ‘Hey, turns out the Goddess is real and would like you to stop draining the Planet’s very lifeforce to power a generator’ doesn’t actually win anyone a whole lot of friends.”

“That would in fact win you a straight jacket… normally.” Veld chipped in because he was a _total asshole_ and not helping.

“Shut _up_ , Verdot.” He should really stop calling the guy ‘Veld’ in his head, and he likely would never be a ‘former’ Turk instead of the Turk of Turks with his family and job intact after he shot the shitty old President Shin-Ra through the head… but habit. “Reeve… come on man. I already have half an idea, well _most_ , of how to generate that much power without killing either Her or the Planet. Particle physics, we can go nuclear and retire the mako Reactors. Just claim they’re more efficient or some shit, fuck man. Happens all the damn time in weapons development, especially with those damn fucking _turrets_. Calm down.”

“Scarlet… you _suck_.” As it was probably as close as Reeve got to swearing, Scarlet manfully refrained from heckling him for the very mild insult. “I didn’t know! I didn’t _mean to hurt Her_ …”

“Fuck _Her_. She’s _not a nice Goddess_ , Reeve. She’s kind of a _bitch_. And as you didn’t do it _intentionally_ , and as I’m the _only one here_ that can _do_ Her work… I judge you not guilty. Just focus on calming down, man.”

Reeve jolted, then snapped his head up so fast Scarlet very nearly got the back of his head smashing into his nose. “You had a _Goddess in your head for **ten years?** ”_

“… _twenty_ , but um… yeah.”

He suddenly got shoved to the side to let the head of Urban Development take a very respectable crack at shaming Her about the stress and damage She did to Scarlet’s poor head. Loudly. Much to Her complete bemusement, not understanding the issues being ranted about so passionately because while Minerva comprehend how fragile all Her creations were… She didn’t think in the terms mortals did nor had to ever contemplate how to reign in an unruly devout who respected Her but would not do Her bidding before Scarlet.

He almost _swore_ She was taking specific note as Reeve outlined the damage She did, though.

“Would this be a bad time to inform you that a great majority of the Turks have decided to found a religion in Her name?” Veld started very casually, keeping half an eye on Rufus Shin-Ra’s bleached-white face as he stared at a legit deity and the other half on little Felicia’s obvious wonderment in beholding Her from behind the girl’s equally dumbfounded mother. “And that we have decided to name you a saint?”

“… ** _yes_**.”

“Well…” Continued his best friend relentlessly, still in that casual tone. “We have founded a religion in Her name, and you _are_ a saint. Legend is in fact our first preacher, I wrote the scriptures, and Vincent has expressed desire to become a missionary.”

Scarlet eyed the man sourly, now realizing why the Turks had confiscated all weapons before they passed through the overly elaborate Lock to Her seat of power, already _dreading_ getting his ass back to Shin-Ra’s headquarters. “ _Why?”_

“Why is Legend the preacher, or why is there a religion where you _are_ a saint in it?”

“Just. Both. All of it. Man, what the _fuck?”_

“It’s _Legend._ ” Veld reminded him pointedly, which honestly was enough of an answer Scarlet had to let that topic go or probably end up with an STD by proximity to it. “Furthermore… you _failed to inform us_ of this issue of yours before it became a problem, Scarlet. I _do **not**_ appreciate it.”

“Is there a sign-up sheet, Directors?” Sephiroth, fucking _Sephiroth_ , inquired delicately from further down Her chamber. “Or do we merely need to be aware of it?”

“Sign up sheet for _what?”_ Hewley inquired in a bit of a daze, then again getting one’s internals fucked around by Her to clear out a JENOVA infection had to be a little disorientating however little Vincent or the silver haired SOLDIER had shown that possible side-effect.

Or possibly the kid was just feeling his understanding of reality break around him by seeing Her presence, either or.

“There is apparently a religion based around this Goddess, where _Director Scarlet_ is a saint, I was merely inquiring about the details.” The evil little troll continued thoughtfully, examining his own arm as he flexed it.

“ _My friend, your desire. Is the bringer of life, the gift of the Goddess!”_ Rhapsodos suddenly laughed, a bit unhinged sounding and very much like the lunatic he kept accusing Scarlet of being. “I _get it! Ha!”_

…and they broke him. Whoops.

Scarlet roughly rubbed his face, sourly wondering just _why_ he stayed friends with Turks when they did shit like this to him. “ _Why_ is there a religion? She doesn’t _give a fuck_ , She’s a _nature_ Goddess. The Goddess of _Gaia_. Live and _procreate_ then _die_ is the only thing She’s _mildly_ interested in.”

“Amen, brother!”

“ _SHUT THE **FUCK UP** , LEGEND!”_


	22. How Scarlet and Verdot Met

**εγλ 1982 – July 7th**

“No, _look_ you _shitty old fuck._ ” Scarlet brandished his own spear at the fat slab of ‘master’ blacksmith, who was honestly not too bad of one. “Two _and_ two. I can jam _four_ fucking materia into this damn thing, as a _matter of fact_ I’ve got Ice slotted next to the fucking _Elemental_ bit. Result? _Icy spear tip_. There _are_ such materia, not it’s _not_ fucking useless.”

The massive bear of a man grunted hard enough his fat gut jiggled under his leather apron, honestly more amused at a barely teenaged blacksmith lecturing _him_ in their skill he came to Junon to _learn_ from him. “Still don’t think it’s _worth it_ , kid. Then again, _Nova_ did and she’s not fucking impressed by _shit_. The design _is crap_ , though.”

“Then _make it better!_ I had _shit_ all to work with in Mideel but a local _mako spring_ and fucked up equipment. Redesign it instead of _bitch_ at me, _you stupid shit_.”

“You got her mouth, for sure.” Grumbled the much older man, who practically dwarfed the redhead twice in _both_ directions. He then suddenly barked a booming laugh right into Scarlet’s ear and clapped his massive work-rough hands together to rub them excitedly. “Like master like student, no real fucking reason _why_ I’m remotely surprised. Right, kid. Let’s see _what_ I can do about your shit design.”

“Fuck _you._ ” He _knew_ the linked slot design he had was _sloppy_ , and while it pissed him off he really _didn’t have time_ to sit down and fix it if he was going to prove his bitch of a master wrong before she croaked on him. “Send a diagram to my old Master hag once you finish, would you? I check in with her once a year… mostly.”

Cain snorted in his face. “She’s whacked you for that summation of her, hasn’t she?”

“Is water _wet?”_

“Kid, _Scarlet._ You sure you don’t want to wait for morning?”

“I got about as much sleep as I’m going to get.”

“Yeah, I _heard._ ” Deadpanned the middle-aged and rather rotund master blacksmith, rubbing the back of his shaggy head uncomfortably. Given the journeyman smith had been sleeping, or _trying to_ sleep, in the loft space over his forge while he was here… Scarlet didn’t doubt it. “Might want to splurge on a mute mask, kid. You’re going to either get your ass _eaten_ by monsters on the road or terrify someone else with those battle dreams of yours.”

Silencing himself every night wasn’t a particularly _bad_ idea if Minerva didn’t fucking _let up_ on her bullshit plan and _insistence_ for him to carry it out for Her.

Fuck _that_ shit.

Scarlet raked probably already sooty fingers back through his own short hair that might need a trim, mildly frustrated with the whole damn _topic_ even some three good years _after_ the nightmares had started. Then again, it was his own damn foolish fault… so he’d just have to live with it.

“I’ll think about it.” Buying himself something that was only locally found in Wutai without either a Steal Materia or Morph magics would mean paying _import_ prices, instead of finding himself the shit out hunting monsters. He didn’t really have that kind of spending money, not unless he split his time between monster hunting and blacksmithing. “Anyways, Kalm right? Master what’s his face… Jullian?”

“Juli _ann_ , damn island brat. Metallurgy Master. Try not to be your _usual_ self, he’s… _snooty_.”

“…great. I’ll stop by the mythril mines, don’t _freak out_ if I take a few months to get there.” Scarlet warned the older man, who had been admittedly understandably freaked out when a preteen blacksmith went missing for a whole two years before showing up on his doorstep completely clueless about being expected at all.

“You could’ve fucking _warned_ someone you were going to help some dirt hounds dig up half a damn forest and establish their own camp, brat.”

“I’m a _fucking_ journeyman, sorry. Forgot I was still accounting for _all my time_ to someone.” That wasn’t _all_ he had done in that period, but he really _didn’t_ have an excuse for checking out the Nibel Mountain at all.

The Shin-Ra mansion _was there_ , the very first Mako Reactor was _not_. Too early for him to sneak in and see about derailing a homicidal Goddess with half her apparently sworn enemy. Maybe a couple more years, it couldn’t be _that_ far away.

“You’re _young_ , you little shit. Most kids would still be hanging on to their mother’s apron strings even at your age _now_.”

“Orphan.”

Throwing up his hands in exasperation, Cain eventually just covered his face with them and sighed massively. “Damn, _stubborn_ , little _shit._ Fine. If you’re not at the mythril mine by the end of the damn _month_ , I’m sending the whole Junon military police after your ass.”

“I promised another _year_ for the guys up in Bone Village, so I’m heading _there_ after then I’ll go to Kalm.” Shouldering his spear again, Scarlet held up and twisted a wrist at the older master as he left the guy’s forge. “Fucking off now, see you… probably never.”

“The Midgar _Zolom_ is a damn thing on this continent, you little _shit!”_

“That’s only if I’m _stupid enough_ to go through the _marsh_ , you fat _mothering chocobo!”_ He tossed over a shoulder as he walked on.

Junon was, well _once,_ a fishing village. Scarlet might know they’d come to bitterly regret the whole deal with the Shin-Ra Electric Company and the building a military installation on the cliffs outside of the growing township, but it hadn’t happened yet so the poor suckers were still appreciating the influx of gil from importing all the materials the future airfield would need on top of their usual fishing for non-mako-tainted protein sources. He had to grit his teeth and ignore the shit being talked about while learning about armor forging from Master Cain, because no one _would_ listen to a fourteen-year-old brat trying to tell them that any major industry-centric harbor would pollute the sea _and_ kill off the sea life for a good stretch of the shore in time.

While the ‘upper’ Junon part was still just scaffolding and a rough idea sketched into sheer rock, the lower part was still a sunny seaside village that did kind of remind him of Mideel. Little rockier, less coral reefs, and significantly _less_ palm trees all around. Less thatched roofs, too, which as a blacksmith he _fucking appreciated_. More of an old English town than a tropical one, and he liked the differences being so stark at a glance.

Little _colder_ than his southern island blood appreciated, but he had gotten used to that being so damn near the Great Glacier area and Mount Nibel for two complete years.

Scarlet put his spear behind his head and on his shoulders, hanging both arms over the solid haft of sanded wood as he had the whole ‘main’ road out of this village to himself. He _probably_ should hit up the mythril mine on this continent first, there were a few bits and bobs in Bone Village that _really_ needed replacement from a better metal source than the metal scavenged out of tonadu nests, so he was hoofing it.

The weird vulture-like tundra dwelling monsters, who had _fucking teeth_ by the way, tended to gather up ‘shiny’ things to build their nests with. Didn’t really matter _what_ , sun-bleached bone polished by wind or even random bits of materia.

He suspected _most_ of the metal that ended up in their nests were tin. Tin, maybe a tiny bit of iron if he was lucky, and he only found _one_ piece of mythril in the whole year he helped the archeologists freaking out about skyscraper-tall bones lying at the foot of the Sleeping Forest.

For one… _yes_ , it _was_ disturbing there once had been creatures of that size all fully grown and apparently killed all at the same time.

For another… exactly _why_ were all those bones there?

As he was _here_ , still labeled ‘Scarlet’ for his damn hair anyways, he might as well try and help figure it out as he had little to _no intentions_ of becoming a murderous and self-absorbed Shin-Ra Executive. Or wear a cocktail dress to work. Ever. Maybe there was another but blonde female Scarlet about his age range, and he wouldn’t have to worry about it?

Either way, not really _his_ problem. _Minerva_ was his problem, and that was a bit more than enough for any one person. Damn bitch that She was.

Then again, he had his suspicions about the position of those fossils Bone Village was building among. Very big bones, directly _outside of_ where he knew the Ancient Forgotten City was?

The summons of the Summons Materia were _all supposedly_ legendary people/creatures a cut above just merely _impressive_ somehow… and there _were_ a couple beast-summons to account for. He _suspected_ it was either how Bahamut or Kujata became legendary, and fending off all those oversized monsters either when the only Cetra city was being built or when it needed defending with all those settled Cetra snacks to eat there afterwards?

Pretty legendary sounding to him. It’d be _fun_ to figure out that bit of lore he didn’t already know-

Someone, not _too_ far away but also very obviously someone closer than Scarlet could _account for_ , grunted. The journeyman blacksmith slowed down, eventually coming to a halt in confusion.

It was like… nearly _midnight_. The only reason why he was up was because Minerva sent him nightmares _every damn night_ so he’d only get four or so hours of sleep, and he stayed up to long the last two days that he passed out right after Master Cain made them dinner to have with his wife and three sons for his ‘last day’ in Junon.

The streets of the growing fishing village were _empty_ but for him, not even the temporary military encampment right up the cliff some bothered coming down here at night. Although, there _were_ still guardsmen patrols to account for, and as it hadn’t been that long ago he had been part of one he immediately got his weapon off his shoulders and slunk down an alleyway to where he _suspected_ the noise came from.

If there was a monster _this far_ into the village murdering someone?

…well, _not_ a monster. There might be some murder still, the moment he could find an opening.

There was a man struggling with holding onto a little scrappy brat trying his _damnedest_ to kick, bite, claw, or otherwise impede the guy trying to hold him still and quiet with a hand over his mouth. There were _seven_ others with him, trying to silently creep out of one of the larger two-story estates built nearly _on_ the shoreline and not remotely dressed like any military outfit or special operations group he remotely knew of.

That was _Mistress_ Gilliver’s place, and in the last three months he spent here he had no idea she had a kid. Then again, the lady was rumored to have been exiled back to her hometown for being caught cheating on her husband and small-minded villagers tended to not look upon that very well so… not surprising?

You’d _think_ someone would’ve mentioned a kid somewhere in there, though. She might obviously not be an exceedingly popular figure locally, but she had _gil_ and that did tend to shut most people up… at least to her face.

A kid being kidnapped.

Ransom, possibly?

It wasn’t the _first_ time Scarlet spotted someone being… well, an asshole. First time there was a group of people, though.

More often, especially in a world that had human-eating monsters already and deaths were a _hell_ of a lot more commonly accepted as just something that happened, it was just one or two people thinking they could rob lone travelers out on the road and let natural life take care of the rest. Which was kind of odd, given most people that traveled tended to be armed to the teeth… but enough numbers to weigh those the odds tended to balance things out. It wasn’t _often_ it happened, but it _did_ happen when you got closer to the bigger towns or found another random group of people on the road.

Eight people for one kid, though… and _not_ somewhere closer to the tented military base.

Very, _very_ curious.

Scarlet thanked the fact that there were no streetlights, equally as he cursed them out because night-blindness was easier to work with in an opponent then them all having about equal night-adjusted vision. Even still, he moved when the group did and shadowed them another few streets still looking for how the hell he was going to get that scrappy kid out of there without injury.

Kidnapper the first, the guy holding said kid, was being as equally as careful as he was being firm about keeping the child from making any noise himself or creating some by abusing his pain tolerances. Though, more promising, he was also more or less mindlessly following his fellow kidnappers since he had to devote so much attention to countering the still fighting child that very much wanted to object.

Unfortunately the other seven were not idiots, even if they were stealing a small person. They had most the angles covered as they inched forward to wherever the hell they were going, though they didn’t move like the Shin-Ra military nor even the more veteran village patrolmen and ladies did after some solid decades of working together.

The group came to a stop at what was probably a pre-arranged meeting point, not _entirely_ outside Junon but close enough there were probably only two or three more-

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and Scarlet glanced backwards into ruby red eyes and a very _highly unimpressed_ man in a fucking _business_ suit sharing his leeward shadow of a tree. “Can you _use_ that?”

He nodded instead of risk talking back, because he’d be the first to admit a cracking teenager’s voice was also not impressive nor would it be all that great if it cracked in _just_ the right way to echo and alert those assholes. Also, the fact the other man could keep his voice to a _mummer_ and still be audible a short distance away was damn impressive.

“Your responsibility will be the right side of the group, then.” Red eyes informed him shortly, which Scarlet noted to be the _opposite_ side of where the child was struggling as the group of kidnappers waited for whatever reason. “Try anything I don’t like, Journeyman Scarlet, and I will kill you too.”

…a well-informed man in business wear, that was likely blue though he couldn’t make out dark colors all that well in the dark. A _Turk_ , then?

Huh. A bit closer to that mess than he wanted to be.

Both him and the guy got distracted by the kid _finally_ hitting, or making through his repeated defiance, a weak spot to get the man holding him to drop his tiny ass with an aggravated hiss. The towheaded boy _bolted_ for it smartly, though he had to pull up short from getting away as a gunshot cracked and the bullet thudded into the ground just in front of him.

Then again, the gunman suddenly had Scarlet’s spear sticking out of his throat as the pissed off blacksmith _hurled it_ with all the accuracy of someone that trained with nothing but for four years both in a group of kids and on the road himself. He didn’t wait to see what the Turk did, though by the sudden headshots he could figure that much out on his own, and instead bolted himself to take back his weapon as the three remaining kidnappers wisely sought some cover of their own.

As the brat finally reached his own cover now his attackers were distracted, Scarlet ripped out his spear before the idiot kidnapper number whatever could and shoulder-checked him in the sternum at full speed. Fourteen or not, he was _still a blacksmith_ and had the muscles of one. The idiot got _rammed_ into a building’s wall, hard enough to drive all the air out of his lungs with a gasp.

Though, unfortunately, Scarlet made himself a target with that. Still better than _fucking grown adults_ shooting at little unarmed kids, but kind of dicey for him personally.

The man he threw into a wall got an Ice2 spell to the face to either finish the job or keep him distracted, as he dove out of the way of a retaliatory Demi spell he only _barely_ caught sight of being thrown at him. The combination killed the idiot, as he was suddenly frosted and missing a good quarter of his upper body as it was compacted in extreme gravity, and the materia user aiming at him suddenly developed a case of ‘aerated brain’ with another gunshot from the Turk.

One of the idiot guys, armed with knuckle dusters of _all_ weapons, attempted to swing at him as he rolled up to his feet again. Scarlet let his spear slide backwards and gripped higher up the shaft, reducing the limitation his longer weapon imposed and making use of his muscles again to force the point up under the guy’s jaw to ram it home in his brain. The ice that suddenly bled out around the wound in fern-like patterns didn’t help him dodge a close-quarters jab to the ribs, unfortunately, but the sudden death did reduce the force behind the punch.

Probably.

He didn’t bother with anything else, Red Eyes sniped the last one when he startled to his feet with the blacksmith killing the second to last one. Scarlet instead laced his fingers together and tucked them behind his head, feeling a bruise starting to bloom under the leather jacket Master Cain’s wife made for him in exchange for some supplemental monster hunting for her leatherworking shop.

Ow. That was going to take _weeks_ to stop feeling funny.

“Stay. There.” Sniper-who-was-probably-a-Turk commanded rather unnecessarily behind him, someone not _entirely_ stealthy enough running towards them from a distance away. “Verdot, get some answers. I’ll retrieve our responsibility.”

“Sir.”

Scarlet was mildly amused to note that his voice was out of breath a little, and when not-Red-Eyes rounded around so they’d be facing one another it was a teenager only a _little_ older than him who was still somewhat puffing with whatever effort he had gone through before this.

Said older brunette regarded him coldly, and with narrow eyes when he divined the amusement the blacksmith was feeling. “Who are you?”

“Scarlet, journeyman blacksmith from Mideel.”

“A far distance from home.”

That wasn’t a question, and _obviously_ journeymen tended to _journey_. That was kind of the damn point of being one. He raised an eyebrow instead, wondering just _what_ the guy was trying here.

“… _why_ are you here?”

“Master Cain’s been teaching me the last couple of months, but he’s agreed I’m done learning what he knows of armor designs.”

“In the middle of the night.”

That _also_ wasn’t a question. Leading, but not a question. Scarlet worked his jaw from side to side slightly, wondering just _what_ he could say to not spend all fucking morning answering twenty questions. “You going to keep asking questions then following up with obvious statements, or what?”

“ _Why_ are you on the streets in the middle of the night, armed?”

“On my way to the Kalm mythril mine.”

“…at _night?”_

Oh look, someone was learning. “Battle dreams, I don’t sleep well. Might as well if I’m fucking up at this hour, Master Cain saw me off so you can check with him what time I left his forge.”

“Easily confirmed…”

Yet again, _not a question_. The whole point of offering the name of the guy that saw him last would be to divorce himself from child-kidnapping-idiots by establishing that he _wasn’t_ part of it. “Are you trying to… intimidate me? Man, try growing _out_ instead of just up. You’re not nearly imposing enough.”

‘Verdot’ stared at him for a long moment, though not narrowly interestingly enough. “Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?”

“ _Are_ you going to kill me?” Scarlet wondered in return, sure that if there had been any gestures of the sort ordering it behind his back then the older teen wouldn’t have bothered asking questions in the first place. “Because… I mean, if you _must,_ then would you fucking do so before dawn at least? My arms are getting tired.”

If so he’d try again in a different world, maybe. Or just finally die for good. Either way, it’d solve his sleeping issue due to Minerva being a class-act of a bitch for a Goddess.

Depressing, but true.

The teenager in front of him very obviously went for a gun suddenly, so Scarlet kicked up his already bloody spear from the ground where it had jarred out to once the corpse had fallen to grab and had the tip up under the guy’s jawline in a split-second before he could aim it. “See, here’s the thing. I don’t _mind_ answering questions… if you _ask the fucking question_. This leading behemoth shit kind of annoys the piss out of me. I heard something grunt, thought it was a monster. Usually help with the village patrols wherever I am, so I went to go make sure nothing slipped into the village around them. Hence, why I got involved. Could you _maybe_ not be an asshole?”

Verdot, who he semi-suspected would be a Turk named _Veld_ in the far future if he was already a Turk hanging out in Junon for whatever reason, put his barely drawn gun away.

Semi-surprised but a bit more wary, Scarlet took his spear tip away from the guy’s throat cautiously.

“ _Why_ involve yourself at all once you realized it was a kidnapping rather than a monster attack?”

“I’ve got a thing against adults using kids, especially against their will. Kid fought it with practically everything he’s got, that’s about as much as I _needed_ to know.” Studying the older teen suspiciously, the blacksmith just eventually heaved a sigh. “If you’re _done,_ I fucking need to get to the mythril mine already. Bone Village needs better hardware, and I’ve already spent way too long here since Master Cain’s a fucking mother chocobo.”

“As you’ve seen _fit_ to provide exactly the information I have requested, and a location you will be found in if we decide there _is_ a need to remove you?”

“I’m not _that_ stupid. Red-Eyes would probably hunt me down and pop my head open just as easily as these guys, he’s a _hell_ of a lot more intimidating than _you._ ” He earned himself a very droll, single raised eyebrow. “One against eight I can’t do, two against eight was more manageable. I’ll always take one verses one, anytime.”

“ _Valentine_ used you as a distraction.”

“Good for him, he’s _smart._ I was fully fucking _aware_ of that, thanks. But if they were shooting or throwing magic at _me_ , they weren’t at the _kid_ when he popped himself loose and ran for it. Either admit you’re stalling for time or fuck _off_ already.”

Vincent _Valentine_ , perhaps?

Well gee, he had cottoned on already thanks.

Shin-Ra Turks, in Junon. Protecting a _kid_ , blond haired. Rufus Shin-Ra probably.

 _Mistress_ ‘Shin-Ra’ cheated on _her_ husband?

Did she really, or was it _Mister_ Shin-Ra that cheated on her?

Quaint, but not his problem. “You know what? _I’m_ fucking off now. I’ve got shit to do.”

Several guns clicked as safety catches were removed down the street a little, and they both turned to the very late Junon Military Police aiming a whole lot of the exact same rifle model at the two of them… standing in a quiet village street surrounded with corpses.

Scarlet looked at the mildly affronted Verdot. “I fucking _hate you_.”

“I’ll handle it.” Promised the older teen.

“ _Sure_ you will.”

<<◊>>

“You know, this doesn’t appear to be ‘ _handled’_.”

“Be _quiet._ ” Verdot instructed the shorter teenager sourly, feeling for the mechanism for their jail cell door’s lock with a pick. It wasn’t actually one of the tumble lock designs he knew how to pick, which was an innovation in prison keeping he did not currently appreciate. “While not exactly _surprising_ , this _will be_ cleared up. You will not retain an arrest record on our behalf.”

“Yeah… I don’t really fucking care. I’m a journeyman, it’s _all_ about the journey. Never _been_ arrested before, so whatever.” The redhead leaning against the back rock wall of their cell with his empty arms crossed over his chest was examining the bars rather than watch him _fail to pick a lock_ … which was a minor blessing he didn’t even want to ask about. “You realize that’s a sliding _bolt_ lock, not a tumble lock, right? Turn the damn _gears_.”

His pick suddenly _snapped off_ at the base of the slightly thicker handle, as it had strained too much to move something entirely too heavy for the thin metal.

Verdot breathed in deeply, extracting the broken tool from the keyhole that didn’t face them and he had to reach around to attempt unlocking at all.

“You need better tools, man. What even _is that?_ Brass? Hard metal sure, but frankly you would’ve been better off with steel or even mythril.”

“You… are an _infuriating_ , belligerent, _mouthy_ -“

“Yes, I know I’m pretty.” ‘Scarlet’ the blacksmith drawled wryly, entirely _too amused_ for everything thrown at him in one single night for Verdot’s liking even if it was now edging into ‘malicious’ the longer events dragged on. “Shit, man. You’re going to make me _blush_ over here.”

“ _Shut up._ ”

“Mmm… nope.” Pushing off of the wall, the redhead pointed at the bolts drilled into sheer rock into the equally rocky floor. “Bit of a history lesson for you, Junon grew _out_ of these cliffsides. This was once a living space, got turned into the village’s jail some decades ago. _Decades_. While rock doesn’t move very _fast_ , it _does move_.”

Before he could even ask what that had to do with anything, Scarlet gripped the bottom of the whole barred section of the cell and _heaved_ with muscles that a blacksmith would develop.

The massive and heavy-duty bolts popped out of the rock with a sandy puff after barely two seconds of concentrated effort.

“We’re lucky they didn’t bolt the top.” Explained the other teenager as he delicately slid the very wall containing them out of the way, using the one side still bolted as a pivot point to just _open_ the whole thing instead of a recessed heavy iron sliding door instead. “And there you go… no picks required.”

“ _…how?”_

Scarlet grinned nastily in his face. “I thought you said to-“

“I _will_ , kill _you_. Explain.”

“Condensation, especially with a _seaside_ cavern? Got into the pits they hammered out for the bolts. Erosion took care of the rest well before we got here. Doesn’t matter how snug it all started out, this grade of steel or not, and _especially why_ the village no longer uses these cells. Guess the military guys forgot to ask why they even _had_ cells in the first place, much less why they stopped using them.” Simply stepping _out_ of the area they had been ‘detained’ within, the blacksmith wandered himself over to the next obstacle in their way out. “This bit? Even _less_ tricky. Especially if you can’t fucking _pick_ a lock. Pay attention.”

Without any equipment, and especially as the blacksmith was _at least_ proving to be somewhat helpful to have at hand, Verdot didn’t strangle him. Barely, and only because he was darkly aware the other teenager was _being_ a mouthy annoyance to provoke him.

The jail cells let out to a jail _block_ , four cells on either side of the sectioned off hallway. Scarlet spent two seconds at each hinge of a thick reinforced door, prying something off the bottom of both before simply yanking the hinge pins out and letting the less robust obstruction simply slam into the ground instead of catch and carefully put it to one side.

It took less than three minutes for him to locate and redirect the blacksmith to the door containing their equipment, with three equally as infuriating quips tossed at him almost per minute. Even once Verdot had his pistol back the other teenager _didn’t shut up_ , likely because he had his spear as well.

“Well… it was a fucking _pleasure_. Let’s _not_ do this again.”

“Wait.” The redhead, though now purely irritated rather than remotely amused, did at least stop at his request. Verdot held up the two parts of his broken pick. “If you _are_ a blacksmith… surely you can repair this?”

“Bitch, I’ll do you _one better._ Watch me.”

He didn’t personally _need_ to like the other teenager, so long as the redhead made himself _useful_ enough to ignore his foul mouth. If Scarlet was equally so in breaking them out as he was repairing or replacing his equipment, then he’d put up with having a clearly intelligent asset with only a few detracting habits.

Who knew what the future would hold?

Perhaps he might have a more urgent need for an obliging if hot tempered blacksmith contact later.


End file.
